Sword of Coming: Zhuang Zhou Dreams of Butterflies

At Longtou Pass, at Swordshadow Pass, at Blood-Caked Armor and Iron-Clad Pass, at Lone Peak Raising the Banner and Bones-forged Pass, the setting sun shines on He'an like an oath.

Snow on the grave, snow on the hempen coat, snow on the stove where an empty bowl is still warm, snow beneath the lamp where an old letter has yellowed. In this life, there will be no more calls for her son.

Boats at the ferry, boats on misty waters, a boat with half a bowl of village wine left untouched, a boat waiting to return as dogs bark at the thatched gate. How could the spring breeze bear to let the jade butterfly die?