"Drinking horses to cross the autumn water, the water is cold and the wind is like a knife. The sun has not disappeared on the flat sand, and I can see Lintao dimly. In the past, the Great Wall was fought, and the salty words were high-spirited. The yellow dust is enough in the present and the past, and the bones are cluttered with wormwood." Who is the world that is not formed by the accumulation of thousands of bones?