In the cold and lonely Courtyard House, the strikingly handsome boy wandered the cramped courtyard every day, never feeling bored or stifled.
Over two hundred years of days and nights brought him nothing but eternal numbness. Had it not been for the belief sustaining him, he would have found it impossible to endure these days long ago.
This realm was transformed daily by his hands, piece by piece, where every step he took could lead to a new Grotto Heaven if he so wished.
Yet, more often than not, he preferred to lie next to the Paulownia Wood Coffin in the living room, watching the middle-aged man asleep day after day, before quietly drifting off to sleep himself.
The boy's appearance was as if carved from ice and chiseled from snow. If not for the trace of melancholy between his eyebrows, from a distance he would seem like a lifeless, exquisite doll.
