In Chang'an, the city is full of people, people coming and going. Strange but familiar faces overlapped among the longing figures, and outside the tea house only a few hundred steps outside the city, a green blade fell with a thud, and the thin and tough blade sank into the ground for several inches. A young man dressed as a Taoist priest pursed his lips and stared at the young man in black clothes standing with his hands behind his back a few feet away.
"Cheng Rang" the young man in black robes said with a joking voice.
The young Taoist priest bent down to pick up the Qingfeng that had been buried in the ground, and wiped away the loose soil on the sword with his sleeves.
He said calmly, "I'll come visit you again in three years." After saying that, he put his sword into its sheath and walked away. Only the young master in black clothes was left looking at the retreating Taoist robe with a smile.
The crowd who had been silent for a long time dispersed like birds and beasts when they saw that one person had left.
The prosperity of the capital city and the rivers and lakes are only separated by the towering city wall.