Winter snow.
Mobei, Uliyasuti.
The last of the night is fading; the heart-shaped incense has burned to ash.
A story of countless twists and turns is recorded in the history books in just a few words: In the year Yihai, early in the twelfth month, the Turks launched a night raid, and Gu Xueyi fell in battle.
The sound of the zither still echoes through the quiet mountain valley. Yueyao, after summer comes autumn, and after autumn comes winter. There are countless days and nights still ahead. Life is so long, as if it will never come to an end...
Theme:
