Rashomon

West wind, ancient road, thin horse. The man is haggard and the horse is weak. When the person is not on the horse, he leads the reins in front; when the horse is behind the person, the curtain is like a dream. The setting sun is bleeding, the silhouette is like a bewilderment, and the beard is hurting. Facing the vast sea, the wind, and the vast sandy sky in front of him, the young man felt that he was just like a wisp of abandoned flying canopy in the sky, unable to control himself, and his footsteps were rolling. My body and mind were exhausted beyond description, leaving only a desolate and distant state of mind. On the horizon, the ray of sunset has finally burned away. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.