The Ferry Does Not Retreat, the Cardamom Does Not Scatter

Looking across the river, he stood guard at the ferry, saying that the green mountains never grow old, and he would wait for her to live forever. But if she can't get through it, he can't come back either. When the wind picked up, someone lit a lamp on the other side. Later, the thousands of sails passed by, the clouds rolled in, and only a green tomb remained, looking at the fireworks in the world year after month.