The Cultivation Remote Control

The road to immortality is hazy, its course unclear; somehow, I’ve stumbled into the scene for no reason. The word “wine” hides a tender heart: anxious when sober, anxious when drunk. The journey is long, the road stretches far; I cast aside all joy and sorrow, every parting and reunion. Above the word “endure” hangs a little blade: let resentment stand to one side, and hatred to the other. A precious storage ring packed with pills: don’t miss out on hunting beauties and claiming treasures.