[Mo Jing]
The vast desert smoke seemed everlasting, as she rode a fading West Screen chestnut horse through the golden shimmering sandy world at a leisurely pace, stroking a few strands of white hair, she said,
"Chen Donghe, I have grown old."
The middle-aged man descended with the wind, his face was also not young, but still displayed patience and gentleness. Chen Donghe twisted her hair, looking at those scattered white strands, he whispered softly,
"I'll pluck them out for you."
"There's no need, I'm afraid of the pain."
Li Jingtian clutched the reins with a pale hand, as Chen Donghe led the aged horse. She sat there in a daze, the yellow sand swirling all around, turning them into two small specs against the landscape—one large, one small.
One:
