The wounds of time and space, the cracks in history, sometimes repairing them may not be the best way.
Lin Shicheng clenched his bandaged hand, and the broken fragments between his fingers were bleeding.
He knew that it was not the objects that needed restoration, but the time that festered.
Qing Dynasty princess earrings, seeping out the sea water of 1894 at midnight.
The crooked neck tree on Meishan Mountain sighed unwillingly.
From the cliff on the cliff, a childish cry could be heard.
The timeline is already twisted, so why bother patching it up?
Mother, you are still too conservative.
The bandages blossomed, and every mark on the arm was engraved with the history of being devoured.
And at the end of the long river of time, black quicksand is devouring the world in front of us.
