Thousand peaks, ten thousand turns, the trail meanders free. Lost in blooms, propped on stone, night falls ins…
Thousand peaks, ten thousand turns, the trail meanders free. Lost in blooms, propped on stone, night falls instantly. The red of the setting sun and the crimson of the Crimson Cliffs reflect each other brilliantly, while amidst the lush grass, hues reminiscent of dawn quietly radiate a kind of scorching beauty.