The wind is blowing, and the sand is rolling in.
I don't see the mist and rain in the south of the Yangtze River yesterday, but today it is indeed full of wild owls, wind and sand flying.
Dressed in elegant white clothes, with flowing black hair, his handsome face is blurred in the desert sand, his expression is still and forgotten.
He held the sword at his waist tightly, fearing that if he let go he would lose everything, and eventually even himself would be lost.
What I can't let go of is my obsession, what I want to get at all costs, and the meaning of my existence.