The King of Ten Thousand Daos: Thousand Swords and Ten Thousand Rends

The wind blows, the branches and leaves sing, the dead leaves drift in the wind, and fall on the young man's face. The young man takes the fallen leaves. In the distance, the sunset over the long river, the willows on the banks of the river, and the gentle breeze cannot blow away the young man's sorrow. A voice rang in my ears, "Young man, do you have any money?"