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The feast for the eyes was much like a martial arts blockbuster film. At this moment, the sound of an erhu began to resonate slowly, yet only its sound could be heard, without any sight of its player. Ma Yiyi, dressed in white, barefoot and veiled, danced gracefully among the bamboo groves.
With the spirit of a youthful hero, he formed alliances with the heroes of the five regions. His courage clear, his every hair standing on end.
In conversations about life and death, they shared the same resolve, and a promise was as valuable as a thousand pieces of gold.
The sword cried out against the western wind, bemoaning the journeys over mountains and water, with hands imparting to the seven-stringed qin, eyes following the migrating geese...
The sound of the erhu seemed to possess a kind of magic power, ancient, desolate, passionate, mournful—it seemed to embody the lives of jianghu heroes to the fullest.
