lit. intersect the soul of a wutong tree (idiom); fig. impossible to predict the outcome of a disaster

A hundred years ago, I was a ginseng that had existed for a thousand years, and because of my own obsession, the heavenly realm hunted me down and I ended my life. A hundred years later, the cycle of life and death was reincarnated, and my soul was split between two time and space. Accidentally, the modern me reentered this unknown time and space. Our agreement under the sycamore tree becomes his curse, a conspiracy occurs, I lose my family, my friendship, and ends the oath between us. Growing up, duty, I had to let go, unknown space, I learned responsibility, I learned to love, a reunion, an encounter, I finally found my true self, to find the feeling I once had. Ginseng Mountain, the curse of a hundred years ago, the agreement of a hundred years ago, I am still me, the little ginseng that guards the ginseng mountain.