Genhsin Impact, I am a Mortal and Cannot Accompany You to the End

Five hundred years ago. Lei Yingying looked down at the young man in the courtyard and said calmly, "Ah, mortals... compared to 'eternity', we're but a fleeting moment of life... That's all. I'll just entertain you for a while." Five hundred years later. On a sickbed. "Wow, wow, you wretch, fight for your life! Don't die!" The sapling I'd planted for years, watered day and night, never saw its branches and leaves flourish. It died the night before my lover returned from her studies. Both held high hopes, yet the two, one man and one god, drifted further and further apart, never to see the day she emerged from the Pure Land and opened her heart. After years of feeding fried tofu, the little fox grew into a full-grown fox, while I slowly aged, unable to lift any kitchen utensils. Sacred cherry blossoms, waka poems, plum wine and snacks, sardines and salt, a shrine strewn with fallen petals, a summer appointment I couldn't keep again. I wanted to buy osmanthus flowers and wine, but I left as an old friend. It's not like the youthful journey. Human lifespan has a limit. "Companionship is the most profound confession of love—but I'm sorry, as a mortal, I can't always say: 'I love you'."