The dark cliffs, the solitary mountain path, and the pitch-black abyss; there was only the wind that blew head-on, brushing her clothes and her dark hair against her cheeks.
In the deep darkness of the night, her white ceremonial robes were very striking. At the summit of Sunset Valley, the zither-playing old man slowly caressed the fluff that had been disturbed from his zither strings by the wind. He silently thought to himself, "The first song breaks the heart, the second song breaks the soul, and the third song brings the end, and yet even this fantasy couldn't imprison you? Could it be that there truly exists a human with the spotlessly pure Dao heart?"
