"Hey! Lao Zhang, do you think the sun is far away or Chang'an is far away?" On the dilapidated city wall of Qiuzi, a veteran with white hair and blood stains holding a curled Mo Dao in his hand, stared at the veteran not far away who was also covered in blood and hair like snow, and asked breathlessly.
"Chang'an! You can see the sun every day when you open your eyes, but you can't see Chang'an even if you look through your eyes." Lao Zhang replied slowly, his eyes blurred as if he had too much nostalgia and reluctance...
The city gate opened, and Guo Xin raised his sword to the sky and shouted: "The white-haired Mo Dao is still young, kill all the Tubo and return home. Brothers, go home!" He rushed out of the city gate first, followed by dozens and hundreds of white-haired veterans waving their weapons and shouting: "Go home!" Like the wind, they swept towards the Tibetan army that was attacking the city.
This situation corresponds to the poem:
The white-haired Mo Dao is still young,
Kill all the Tibetans so that they can return home.
Late in life, old soldiers refuse to stay in the isolated city.
Unfortunately, there is no holy king in the court.
The white-haired general rides on his horse,
The 60-year-old veteran died in battle.
I hope that Master Wang will not arrive every day.
The sky sheds tears to cherish the old man.
