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Ahhhh my poor beefleaf-loving heart ðŸ˜
This idea is so painful but so sweet at the same time, but isn’t that just beefleaf in a nutshell?
Every year, for the mid autumn festival, the crown prince of xianle is undefeated in the number and grandeur of thousands of glittering lanterns lifting to the sky in his honor. All the doing of crimson rain sought flower - and the god's growing number of believers.
But it seems that, without explanation, every year, 523 lanterns are lit for a god that has fallen. The number is always exact, but the god it is offered to has long disappeared. It is a great mystery.
"Palace of the Wind Master... 523 lanterns."
There is nobody to rejoice about it.
From a dark patch of sea, of grief, loss and bitterness, every year, 523 lanterns rise to the skies.