Until my old age, I could no longer remember how many years it had been since I put down the sword in my hand. Over the years, I have often stood alone on this cliff, sometimes for a whole day. Young people passing by often ask me, who am I and why do I always stand here? I thought about it for a long time, but in the end I couldn't answer him. I only know that when the mottled time turns my hair white, I still remember who you are.