In a world interwoven with machinery and ice and snow,
her name was cut by the sound of cold gears,
like a discarded fragment, floating on the edge of nothingness.
Aikefei, the existence that seems to be forever free between reality and dreams,
is covered with scars engraved by broken ice jade,
those ice jade fragments and fragments,
like memories torn apart by reality, cruel and beautiful.
Her weapon, the Fragrance Player,
is no longer a simple object,
but a silent accusation and cry.
The mixture of those pure and sacred dewdrops and polluted water drops,
like the pollution and purity interwoven in the depths of the soul,
cannot be separated, and there is nowhere to escape.
The sound of gears seems to be her only accompaniment.
The meshing gears, the spur gears of the mechanism,
these mechanical rhythms bring a morbid rhythm,
slowly spreading in her bone marrow,
permeating every cell of her,
making her soul fall into endless confusion and indifference.
She broke through the boundaries of her level again and again,
from 20 to 90,
like an endless cycle,
repeating the ritual of self-destruction and rebirth.
The chapters of the gift book “Justice”
are like cold symbols,
read countless times, but never brought true salvation.
The wisdom in the book seems to be gradually eaten away in her heart,
turned into invisible ashes.
She collected the blue crystal snails,
the relics from the ocean,
are just fragments of illusions,
blurring the boundaries of her perception.
Facing the eroded spiritual resonance,
she longed to escape, but was bound by invisible shackles,
wandering between nothingness and reality,
losing her self-positioning.
Aikefei’s story is a broken poem,
echoing in the cold machinery and broken dreams,
her soul wandered like a ghost,
looking for a glimmer of blurred light in the endless darkness.
That light may never have existed,
maybe it was just the last obsession in her heart,
a phantom that can never be touched.
This is a cold and lonely journey,
a story of losing oneself in machinery and frost.