In the north of Xiaoxiao Desert, under the Sansheng Tree, I asked you if you remember the past. About hatred. About killing. About redemption. She had forgotten how long it was. Just as a gust of wind came, a wisp of faint fragrance filled her nostrils, and the past clouds and smoke that had haunted her for countless nights gradually became clear in her mind. She closed her eyes slightly, and when she opened them again, her face was covered with tears. The wild sand filled the sky, rolling up three thousand black hairs, covering the pale face. A river on the other side separates thousands of mountains and rivers. The still water flows deeply, and the Cang Sheng sings. In the end, she turned her head first. All the stories are just a sigh. As time goes by, I just go in the opposite direction and walk alone to the end of the world.