Southeast, Tong Town.
As the sun gradually rises, the busiest market gradually calms down, and the town returns to its former purity. The old woman selling vegetables on the street picked up the dripping cabbages and put them one by one into a basket made of bamboo strips. She inadvertently recalled that year when the brown horse came in person, the ten-mile red street, the youthful spirit, and the young girl's spring.
The war horse raised its head to the sky and neighed. The female general in white clothes and silver armor stretched out her hand, and her light voice was carried farther and farther by the wind.
"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid."
Nowadays, the long street is still there, with bustling lights, but some people still prefer the dimness. The old man's dry and trembling hands covered the newly replaced red lantern in front of the old tavern, and his tears blurred the vermilion paint.
When we are no longer afraid, heroes have grown old.