The mountain rain comes suddenly,

Misty and fine,

Dampening the golden bamboo hat of a young lad,

And his indigo cloak.

Soft mud clings to the edges of his shoes,

Mixed with the scent of grass,

Slippery as he continues on his way.

How much farther is it?

He looks up, facing the towering cedar forest,

Covered by the cascading rain clouds.

At the end of the green woods,

The bare texture of the great mountains is revealed—

Red stones and white rocks,

Extending to the snowline on the peaks.

Between the red and green,

Halfway up the mountainside, a wooden building stands.

Curved railings line its length.

A subtle smile plays upon his lips,

His brows slightly lifted.

He hopes to reach a good meal before evening arrives.

Doing is always harder than thinking,

The deep forest is cold and dark,

Masked by moss-covered rocks,

Appearing like false faces.

He ascends, wanting to add another layer of warmth.

In his hand, a cold and slippery whistle baton,

His fingertips gradually losing sensation.

The young lad sits on a fallen tree trunk,

Wearing leather gloves and a leather hat.

Atop this hat, the bamboo hat crowns his head,?

The branches and leaves rustle again on the ground,

Whispering softly.

Birds startle and settle,

Watching as a distant indigo blue fades away.

The mountain path, adorned with red and white rocks, is bathed in golden hues,

As the sunlight bursts through the rain clouds.

The young lad gazes down upon the green woods below,

Heaves a sigh of relief.

He taps the water droplets off his hat,

Then lifts his eyes to a simple two-story wooden building,

And the snow-capped peaks looming behind it.

"Qingchi Peak..."

A burly man pats the young lad's shoulder.

To his surprise, the room is filled with people,

Gathered around a circle of wooden tables.

The air is hazy, mixed with the scent of tobacco and alcohol.

The bartender is busy in the center.

Squeezed among the crowd,

The lad eagerly inquires about the history of Qingchi Peak.

A millennium-old legend,

Few remember it well.

One by one, those present sigh,

"I don't know, really.

Even if some do,? they can't speak of it."

This snow-capped peak is the home of the Qingchi Bird,

Nothing more, nothing less.

A jug of Qingchi liquor,

Leaves the exhausted him drunk and sprawled.

Even the unfamiliar bed of a foreign land feels warm and familiar.

Yet the dream world is so strange.

Fire rages in the sky,

Countless fragments falling to the earth.

People wail in the mountain caves.

A massive shadow streaks across the peaks,

And tranquility returns to the world.

At dawn, the forest birds awaken the lad.

Sunlight sprinkles on his handsome nose,

The fine beads of sweat refreshing.

It's time to hit the road.

A trace of worry creeps upon his brow.

Dressed in warm clothes,

Gripping the whistle baton firmly,

A jug of Qingchi liquor at his waist.

He holds the sunlight that seeps through the clouds.

The mountain path is bathed in a warm glow.

The snow-capped peaks glance back through the mist,

In a fleeting moment of lostness.

"Qingchi Tower is the destination,

No need to climb any further."

His arm is pulled by the man from yesterday.

The lad simply smiles.

Step by step, finding stability,

Inhaling the cold with every breath.

There is no longer a path,

Only the vast expanse of sky and mountains.

Protective crystals in the eyes reveal colorful dreams.

The wine jug at the waist is now half empty.

Snowflakes cover the shoulders.

The sun hides behind the dense clouds.

Perhaps it will take two more days to reach a good point.

Suddenly,

Thick clouds on the mountainside

Transform into magnificent wings,

Drifting, revealing a glimpse of true form,

Pure white tinged with faint green.

Soft golden light reflects upon the clouds,

Upon the mountain,

Upon the young lad.

"The shape of these clouds resembles the sacred feathers of the Qingchi Bird!"

He gazes at them with fascination.

As the wind passes,

The mist gathers,

But the sight is no more,

Only the mountain clouds, eager to snow.

Filled with joy,

He builds a snow cave,

Creates an exit,

And settles in for the night.

A frigid night without stars,

The howling wind whispers ancient legends,

Narrating to the bravest heart,

The most compassionate warrior.

With two days of determination,

The young lad finally reaches the mountaintop.

Gazing into the distance,

A sea of clouds, adorned with vibrant hues,

Overflowing and rushing.

And there lies a relic—

A stone door no one dares to enter,

Standing here, its age unknown.

The massive stone is rough, tightly sealed,

Without inscriptions,

Or patterns,

Rectangular in structure,

Leading to a pitch-black abyss.

No one has ventured in and returned.

Yet he remains composed and serene,

Whispering the name of the Qingchi Bird,

Stepping into the unknown.

This world feels elusive,

Unsure if I've stepped out of reality into a dream,

Or stepped out of a dream into reality.

From the flat cliff's edge, the distant view is boundless,

A mirrored bay lies by my side,

Winding along the cliffs,

Overflowing and cascading,

Flowing into the vast white sea below.

The rosy hues bring warmth to everything,

Adorning them with colorful veils.

But the sun remains hidden beneath the clouds.

The young lad gazes at the magical scenery in the water,

Treading carefully along the shore.

Suddenly, a shadow rushes from behind,

A leopard pounces towards his back.

Swiftly, he flips like a swallow,

The whistle baton twirling like a disc,

First strike to the tail,

Second strike to the head.

Third strike pressing down.

With one foot on its chest,

He stands tall on the ground.

The snow leopard gasps beneath his feet,

He stares into its eyes.

Slowly, he lifts the edge of his foot.

The leopard flips back,

Stumbling into a ball,

Its fleeing blue eyes flickering,

Disappearing in the stone crevices a hundred steps away.

Warmth rises in his palm,

The whistle baton held too warmly.

The baton rests on his shoulders,

Arms crossed at the end.

This mountaintop grows warmer as he walks further.

He takes off his inner coat,

Secures his leather hat,

Takes out a magnetic needle,

Unable to determine the direction.

"The yellow stones beneath my feet are truly beautiful,"

The whistle baton lightly taps,

Seemingly vibrating faintly.

The young lad sits upon the yellow stones,

Drinking the last drop of Qingchi Clear.

The fragrance of the wine is crisp and distant.

A thought drifts into eternity.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him trembles and crumbles.

He leaps away,

Only to see the yellow stones churn,

Dust and air rush in,

Now forming valleys, now forming hills, stretching far and wide.

Gigantic mountain shadows extend and tower,

The shattered stones and gray soil blur his vision.

Tying on a face towel,

Shading with hands over eyes,

He seizes the opportunity to look back,

And there, a snake's head resembling a small mountain!

Its dark eyes stare hauntingly!

Beneath the colossal serpent,

Humanity appears minuscule.

In a bewildered gaze,

A voice flashes through his mind.

"I am the master of these mountains."

"Um... I'm just passing through."

"No,

You've come to find her."

"Who?"

No further words are spoken,

As the rolling tail approaches, ready to strike his face.

In the midst of flips and jumps,

He drops a round object, mixed and opaque.

"What is that?

Hiss... it has a peculiar fragrance."

"Why should I tell you?

Hmph,

You nearly crushed me just now!"

The colossal serpent hesitates and offers a compromise,

If the lad lets it taste the object,

It will let him go.

A barely audible hum,

The young lad raises an eyebrow, secretly delighted.

This try is to give it enough.

Twenty baits with a secret recipe,

May you sleep forever and ever.

...

Examining the slumbering posture resembling a mountain,

The young lad walks up to its neck.

The whistle baton prys open a narrow gap,

With one hand he probes,

His eyes scrutinizing.

The yellow stone giant serpent becomes delicate here,

Compact and inseparable.

Touching,

Scale by scale,

Inch by inch.

Left hand supports, then right hand supports,

His forehead and back covered in sweat.

Why hasn't he found it yet?

The lad pants, collapsing on the serpent's body,

Taking off his face towel.

The sun beneath the sea of clouds has yet to rise.

Is it going to end like this?

Subtle clouds linger beside him,

Enveloping the indigo cape,

The deep brown leg bindings,

And the dusty shoes

Facing a robe of yellow gauze,

Slightly billowing like the mist around him.

Who is it?

The young lad raises his gaze.

A smile that may or may not be a smile,

Eyes that may or may not be awake.

The yellow attire melts in the glow of the clouds,

Dark hair cascading casually behind her,

Flowing all the way to her heels.

Who is she?

She approaches him,

Passes through him,

Embracing a body

Coldness from a thousand years atop the peak,

The solitude and chill of the unoccupied.

He startles and turns his head,

The young girl also turns,

And solemnly

Forms an ancient seal with her hands.

As that seal emits a radiant glow,

She,

Without sorrow or joy,

Disappears within it.

"Wait,

Wait."

He reaches out,

But loses his balance.

It's a dream...

The young lad touches his forehead,

Gazing at the still-rising sun below the clouds.

In his heart, he thinks of the girl in his dream,

And her seal.

With renewed effort, he pries the whistle baton,

His breath sinking to the dantian,

Gradually tilting the serpent's neck.

In the play of light and shadow, he suddenly realizes.

The immense patterns are indeed seals.

And at their center,

Shines a resplendent scale.

So that's it!

Diving beneath the most dazzling hue of orange-yellow,

He touches the crescent-shaped inverse scale.

Overwhelmed with joy,

Yet, also immensely relieved.

This pristine and lightweight inverse scale,

Is the key to everything.

He smiles,

A touch of bitterness in the corner of his eyes,

Recalling the years of wandering.

...

Calluses on his small hands rub against sweat stains on patched clothes.

Under the scorching sun, a damp and tender figure always stands by a wooden stake.

The dry and cold northern winds carry a stinging blast of ice shards.

The mirage-like street markets in the west consume the lives of travelers.

In the tea houses of the eastern city, the gentleman says,

He will weave new stories again, pointing at him.

The flowers in the south never wither,

But he, who never waits for the fruit to ripen,

Is left with nothing but a sigh.

In the remnants of the pavilion,

No one reads the ancient divine scriptures anymore.

In the bustling streets,

Everyone is busy bargaining for their own survival,

Concerned only with how to live,

Who still thinks about how to die?

Qingchi Peak,

Has anyone ever come here,

From a different world below the clouds,

On a certain year, on a certain day?

Raising the moon-white inverse scale,

He gazes at it, captivated.

The glow of the clouds reflects on his forehead through the scale.

Images of the journey and the stone labyrinth appear in his mind,

Guiding his consciousness to turn left and right.

At the end of the labyrinth, there is a dark exit.

Is this it, then?

Organizing his luggage,

The inverse scale hidden in his embrace,

The young lad tightens the wrist guards under his cape,

Raises the whistle baton,

And hastens his pace.

More and more massive boulders surround him,

Growing larger in size.

His legs start to feel increasingly heavy.

It seems like he has walked for a long time,

Yet not very far.

Wandering in circles,

Undoubtedly, it is a maze.

Fortunately, just when the guidance of his consciousness starts to fade,

His hand touches the wall he recently turned from.

Is this it, then?

Staring into the darkness between the colossal stones before him,

He hesitates for a moment.

In his mind,

Indelible, are the wrinkled hands,

Gently caressing his own cheeks,

Their faint warmth still lingering.

And so, he softly calls out to the Qingchi bird,

Closing his eyes,

Stepping into the unknown.

Snow-capped peaks,

The towering stone gate,

Seem somewhat familiar.

Could it be the return to the entrance?

He scratches his head,

And catches a glimpse of a shadow beside the stone gate.

Upon closer inspection,

His heart skips a beat.

The frail figure,

Casts a slender silhouette against the backlight.

This silhouette is so familiar,

Resembling the one he followed day after day in his childhood,

Like a teacher,

Like a friend,

Like a father,

Like a brother.

His eyes well up with warmth and aching,

He approaches step by step,

His hand gently resting on that shoulder.

No response,

Silence as if in death.

Swiftly turning the body around,

He gazes intently at the face.

He was a stranger, an elderly man,

Fainted from the cold.

Relieved, the young boy

Reflects on his own foolishness,

"How could it be him?

He's long gone..."

Unbuttoning their garments,

The young boy embraces the old man,

Then covers him with all the clothes.

In the cold wind,

They stand like the reliefs by the stone gate,

Silent, austere,

Like a rough chrysalis,

Awaiting the next phase of life.

With the faint heartbeat,

Gradually warming skin,

The heart awakens.

After an unknown duration,

He looks at him,

Looks around,

But can only weep.

How can I be saved?

In this place of life and death!

The young boy is puzzled.

The old man's words are unclear,

Fragmented, revealing the past.

He too was once a young boy,

In the mountains, searching for the Qingchi bird's trace,

But trapped here,

In a realm of illusions,

No way out of life,

Yet unable to die.

No food, no drink,

No rest, no sleep.

No sense of time,

Unaware of months and years.

In this eternal predicament,

Only madness and dreams remain.

The old man throws himself into the snow,

Even if it means eternal slumber,

He will awaken once the snow melts.

The young boy vaguely remembers,

Having walked through a place of warmth.

This warmth and cold defy logic,

Everything on this peak is designed.

"Let's go together,

There must be a way."

Supporting the frail arm,

The young boy still holds onto hope.

How would we know without trying?

On the snowy peak,

Lost in circles upon circles,

No way out.

The young boy examines the original stone gate,

And indeed, it's different.

The stone is more refined.

Faint yellow light of rocky scales.

Standing at the stone gate,

Raising the reverse scale,

Welcoming the rosy light.

In his mind, a floating city appears,

Radiant and magnificent.

Right beneath their feet.

Gazing at the mountain clouds brimming with rosy light,

The young boy asks the old man,

"Have you tried jumping down,

Have you tried this way of death?"

The old man is taken aback.

The young boy smirks cunningly,

Embracing the old man's waist,

With a leap,

He jumps off the cliff.

The sensation of weightlessness is the beginning of fear.

And the expansion of fear stems from inner ignorance.

Fortunately,

One of the two hearts is steadfast.

The sound of the wind roars in their ears,

The wind stings their faces.

The old man's eyes widen in terror,

His soul was already lost and unknown.

The young boy's hand around the old man's waist tightens,

"Don't be afraid! This is an illusion, it'll be alright soon!"

He reassures loudly.

After an unknown duration,

The young boy awakens.

Beneath him is a solid metal floor.

He looks around,

Vast and empty, resembling a cavern.

Countless white fluorescents flicker on the cave walls.

A floating luminous sphere stands a few steps away,

Like a sun in the white mist.

The young boy nudges the old man,

Waking him up.

"Child, where are we again?"

"I don't know, but it seems we're unhurt."

"You're awake?"

Voices echo in their minds.

"Who?"

The young boy stares intensely at the shadow behind the sphere.

What's over there?!

A faint yellow veil floats over,

It's the young girl!

The young boy is surprised and then becomes slightly wary.

She emerges from the shadows,

Making some gestures with one hand.

The sphere emits light in different directions and intensities,

Bathing the three of them.

The light is pure and clean,

The young girl's figure faintly glowing.

Gentle, like feathers.

Subtle, like smoke and shadows.

"I thought I was dreaming again,

But I didn't expect it to be real, it's you."

She slightly turns away,

Murmuring softly,

"But I won't wake up again."

The young boy is puzzled,

What does she mean?

"Follow me."

The young girl turns around, the sphere follows her.

After a moment of hesitation, the young boy and the old man follow her into the deeper darkness.

"That was just an illusion you created.

You need the weak to embody courage."

The young girl lowers her gaze,

Sighing softly to herself,

"And I need the strong to fulfill this mission."

"We have some resemblance."

"Yes." A faint smile appears on her lips,

"He is our architect and my hero."

The young boy gazes at her,

Following her gaze,

Her delicate jade-like hand gently caresses an ice-made coffin.

Beneath the icy surface, a face is vaguely visible.

"But this is not the epic of heroes,"

She turns her head to the young boy,

"Nor is it the sacrifice of a brave warrior."

Suddenly, radiant light bursts from her,

Her figure turns into white light and engulfs the young boy.

"This is the choice of consciousness. Mine or yours."

As the words fade,

Countless memories and emotions flood into his mind.

All his senses are continuously experiencing.

When he opens his eyes:

Floating in the high sky,

He sees magnificent structures plunging deep into the sea,

Tower into the clouds,

No, above the clouds,

In a place beyond his vision's reach.

The clear sky beyond the clouds,

Countless silver lights twinkle,

Converging and intersecting,

Like a pearl curtain surrounding the structures.

In the blink of an eye,

He finds himself on a street.

Everything on the street is strange and magical,

Far beyond his comprehension.

Busy, yet well-organized,

People wear peculiar clothes and headpieces,

Understanding each other's intentions without speaking.

But there seems to be something special happening.

In a moment of daze, inside a room,

A familiar face,

And in the next instant, he seems to enter that body.

Taking a moment to gather his senses,

Observing the surroundings,

Looking down,

This is the body of an adult male.

Suddenly, a splitting headache,

A transparent frame appears before his eyes,

Displaying text from another world.

He doesn't recognize it,

But the consciousness of the body's owner understands.

"He" doesn't have enough "brain" capacity,

And needs to spend money to purchase more.

"He" has been alive for a long time,

Having forgotten many things from earlier years.

"He" has two brains,

One in the body,

And the other...

The young boy doesn't yet understand where it is,

But it seems more important.

The overwhelming feeling of despair weighs the heart down,

"He" looks through the window towards the distance.

A massive ship,

Floating atop the peak,

Floating... Floating...

Wait, isn't that Qingchi Peak!

The young boy is astonished. Thoughts from "him" echo in his consciousness.

"External brain, internal brain, external brain, internal brain...

Hehe...

I am no longer myself,

Who am I?

Each of you must attend to your own matters,

Look outside!

Tomorrow, no, hehehe, hahaha...

Today is doomsday!"

As soon as the words fall,

The boy's consciousness feels as if it is being sucked into a thousand holes,

Each one containing different scenes.

Suddenly, towering flames, gusts of air,

Thick smoke,

Suddenly, eerie laughter at a banquet,

The jarring sound of clinking glasses;

Suddenly, panicked crowds on the streets,

Crazed eyes,

Appalling acts of sin in plain sight;

Suddenly, heads packed tightly in a cave,

Howling voices echoing one after another;

Suddenly, countless debris falling from the sky,

Enormous shadows sweeping over the peaks,

And, and so on!

Why does it all seem so familiar...

As if his brain is about to explode,

The boy can't resist,

And faints.

When his consciousness returns,

He is still in the body of that man.

Step by step, walking through a long and wide corridor,

Fingers lightly pressing a spot in front of a "wall."

The "wall" opens.

In the vast space,

Transparent "boxes" are neatly arranged.

As far as the eye can see, there are thousands upon thousands.

Upon closer inspection,

The boy is shocked,

Are these... bodies?!

The man turns his head and says,

"They're all here."

Only then does the boy realize there is another person behind him.

As the man and the other person lock eyes,

His heart sighs: It's really you!

In a daze, a bright light suddenly rises,

And he faints once again.

Frustrated by the inability to distinguish dreams from reality,

He opens his heavy eyelids and looks around,

Pitch-black darkness surrounds him.

But in the next moment, a gentle white light illuminates.

The face of a gentle young girl in a yellow veil twists slightly,

"Did you see everything?"

The young boy doesn't answer,

Cautiously moving his body backward,

Seems to be searching for something.

"And where is that old man?"

"..."

"Where is he?"

"There was never an old man to begin with."

The girl squats down and meets his gaze,

"When you first arrived, I told you. It was an illusion."

So that's what she meant at that time!

"And what about just now?"

"The memories of everyone from the old world."

"And... now?"

These three words are asked cautiously and with great weight,

His eyes sparkling as he looks at her.

"You are real, and I... half and half."

A hint of a bitter smile appears, then her expression returns to a gentle calm,

"Come with me, I'll show you the real half."

They walk quietly,

Two people and one ball of light.

A silent and long corridor,

Fluorescent floating bridges,

Endless and wide passageways,

Ahead, an impenetrable darkness.

Finally, the girl stops her steps.

Her delicate fingers reach forward.

So that's it.

This is the place where "he" just came from.

The young boy realizes it in his heart.

The "wall" opens,

Just like before,

The scenes he saw in his consciousness.

In the vast space,

Transparent "boxes" are neatly arranged.

As far as the eye can see, there are thousands upon thousands.

"This is only a small part of it."

There is a hint of indiscernible sorrow in her eyes.

"They have been sleeping for a long time...

A very long time."

"This is me." Following her pointing finger,

There is a box emitting a flickering red light.

The two walk closer,

And as they approach, the sight becomes clearer,

Inside, there lies a girl with the same appearance,

Her face radiant, innocent.

"So, the one standing is an illusion?"

The young boy stares at her,

Not surprised, only inquisitive.

"There was a malfunction,

My internal brain is no longer functioning."

She nods and then gazes at herself foolishly,

"After taking on the duty of guarding,

It's inevitable. I was prepared for this."

"Will you die?"

"No... but the one who is alive

Is no longer really me.

A body without a soul,

The term 'walking dead' fits quite well."

"So, who am I talking to?"

"A machine,

Using 'her' words."

Suddenly, the young boy feels that the other person is a bit fragmented.

Perhaps the duty of "her" is coming to an end.

And this so-called "external brain"

Will continue with other tasks.

"And what about the Blue-winged Bird?

Is it here too?"

The girl turns her head to look at him, somewhat surprised,

"The Blue-winged Bird?

That's our doomsday salvation plan.

This ship is it."

So,

This peculiar space is that ship!

A floating island carrying an ancient civilization.

The legendary Blue-winged Bird

Is a giant bird,

Roaming the sky,

Bestowing life,

When the sun rises,

One can ride on its wings and soar into the past,

Changing the future.

With his mouth agape,

The young boy remains silent for a long time.

A mix of astonishment, anger, shame, and regret

...Complex emotions surge within him,

His heart aches,

But he still can't let go of his question,

Whether this ship possesses the legendary power.

The girl shakes her head.

After an unknown amount of time,

The flickering red light reflects the silence of a person.

"I'm going back."

The young boy stands up,

Pulling out that serpent scale key from his pocket.

Facing the light, he intends to place it on his forehead.

"Can you help me bring these people down the mountain too?"

The girl earnestly asks, her finger pointing upwards in a circle,

"If you agree, like people from the old era,

You'll have a long life and good health.

You'll also possess wisdom, wealth, and power."

"That's not my purpose for this journey."

The young boy calmly responds,

A seed of unease sprouting in his heart.

What exactly is the Blue-winged Bird plan?

"Can't they come down the mountain by themselves?"

"Only when the civilization in the lower world reaches a certain stage

And finds the 'Guide' can they."

These people descending the mountain...

What kind of impact will it have on the "lower world"?

But there is also life on the ship.

For the first time, turmoil fills the young boy's heart.

"You insert the key into this crevice,

And you can bring them out of the mountain."

The illusion explains,

Pointing to a square sculpture that appeared next to him, seemingly out of nowhere.

A dark crevice on the front,

Neither too big nor too small, just right.

The key is raised in his hand,

Suspended in mid-air, hesitating.

"What about those who once ascended the mountain?"

"They died in the secret realm or illusions,

Occasionally, one or two managed to escape,

Their whereabouts unknown."

Suddenly, the girl lowers her head,

Then, as she raises it again,

She grabs the young boy's shoulder tightly,

Staring at him intently, she says in a loud voice:

"Don't insert it.

You will be forced into a deep slumber.

The key has already linked to your consciousness.

That slot is the switch."

She points to a socket on her own box,

"'She' is deceiving you! You were supposed to insert it here and awaken me.

But my consciousness is weak and I can no longer wake up.

'She' has long betrayed the Blue-winged Bird plan!

Hurry, go to the ice coffin, my brother has the termination switch."

As soon as she finishes speaking,

She faints.

The young boy stares blankly,

As she slowly rises to her feet.

Softly, she speaks,

"I didn't expect her to take advantage of the situation again.

Did I scare you?"

"You see, I did deceive you,

But it doesn't mean there's no reason behind it.

The people here are already powerless to save themselves.

They created me,

Yet still trapped in their desires

...

After doomsday, they planted stories, tempting future generations.

Waiting silently for the world's civilization to mature,

Only then would they descend.

The 'Guide' is my lie,

Just luring you to sleep.

But if they come down,

They will only enslave you,

And doomsday will only repeat.

I have witnessed human history,

Many times already.

Those who hold the secrets never find a way out."

"At least you can just let me go back."

She shakes her head,

"You would reveal everything about the old world and this place to the future world.

And the cycle would repeat again."

"So, are all the people who were tempted before asleep?"

"I didn't lie about that.

You're the first one who fits the criteria."

A deadlock!

The young boy sits cross-legged,

Silent for a long time.

"Leave that girl,

Let me become the guardian."

"...Alright."

'She,' unexpectedly agrees.

Removing his baggage,

Bamboo hat,

Cloak,

One by one...

Inside the hibernation chamber,

The young boy takes a final glance

At the spot where the red light flashes,

And slowly closes his eyes.

In an instant,

What climbed into his mind?

He seems to be a ship,

A door,

A clear spring,

A snow-capped peak,

A body,

A hand.

The world naturally deconstructs in his eyes,

Everything is clear in his heart.

In the depths of the universe,

He gazes at the Milky Way,

And is also gazed upon by the Milky Way.

His thoughts return to the Qingchi Peak,

He carefully examines this gigantic ship.

"Floating and sinking at times,

Taking refuge in the green mountains."

As soon as the words are spoken,

The hull emits a thunderous roar.

Qingchi Peak's summit shatters.

Snow-covered peaks crumble,

Rocks roar,

But they only slide to one side of the mountain.

The voice in his consciousness panics,

Questioning.

The young boy concentrates,

The massive ship descends slowly,

A colossal shadow glides past the red stones and white cliffs,

Glides past the snow line,

Glides past the wooden pavilions and long railings,

And the mist-veiled green forest.

In the desolate areas of the mountain's belly,

Dust and smoke rise abruptly,

The giant ship has already revealed its true form

In the lower world.

"How did you manage to do it?"

The girl reappears in his consciousness,

"You don't have the authority."

"Well, ah, 'she' took advantage again.

When she held onto my shoulder,

I gained the authority.

It was only after I 'slept' that I understood."

"Are you going to release them?"

"Perhaps, but not now."

"Will you tell the people of the future world about all this?"

"I will, but gradually and in order."

"Aren't you afraid the world will fall into the cycle again?"

"If the cycle is the path to rebirth,

Perhaps we haven't gone astray.

Or maybe when the people of the new world learn about the past,

There will be no more cycles."

The young boy smiles in his heart,

"At least those selfish 'rulers' are still asleep."

"I hope you can protect both worlds."

She points to the clouds,

A hint of melancholy in her eyes.

"When the sun rises,

I won't be here anymore."

Then she turns to a corner of the ship,

Speaking to herself,

"Brother, our plan is complete.

Although I couldn't continue 'her',

At least I have fulfilled the true plan.

It can be terminated now."

The mountains and rivers remain,

While things change and stars shift.

On a magnificent and graceful terrace,

A young girl full of innocence,

Holding a book in her hands,

Smiling as she gazes at the man opposite her.

"Teacher, this book is really good.

Are the stories inside true?"

The man shades his eyes with one hand,

Fine beads of sweat forming on his handsome nose under the sunlight.

He looks towards a distant place,

The clear sky beyond the clouds,

Countless silver specks,

Converging and intersecting,

Enveloping the towering buildings that reach into the clouds,

Up and down like a curtain of pearls.

"Yes, it's true. Our history,

You should study it well."

4July2023