When I was young, I rode a white horse and rode the waves and chased the sand. Long songs, sounds, feasts and glitz. Frost and dew gather on clothes and the wind fills sleeves, while gambling and wine break flowers.
The setting sun washes away the red clouds, and the old trees have jackdaws. Bury the old sword deep and bury the Hujia. Don't worry that heroes have nowhere to go. Heaven and earth are their home.
Concept: The setting sun washes away the red clouds, and the old trees are surrounded by jackdaws.