Master, Does Not Exist

The sound of the pipa breaks, the sound of the qiang flute is swallowed, the sound of the pipa cuts into the heartstrings: long clouds and dark snow, lofty sentiments, dust on the broken walls, pitiful moonlight over the mountains; worldly affairs are like tides and water, gone and back again, walking along the ancient road, looking at the green mountains and returning to the distance, drawing my sword and asking the blue sky, when can I open the road to rivers and lakes. PS: Pei Zheng only wanted to cure his stuttering at first, but he never thought of walking so far.