At Dusk, Carrying a Trace of Residual Soul
I return to the mortal realm, a transient spirit,
Only the echo of thirteen years of inquiring about spirits remains,
I do not envy a life without titles,
I am strict with myself yet recklessly immerse myself,
As if an old friend is about to meet, blood stains my robes,
Starry eyes replaced by the clear moonlight and cool wind,
Frost and snow stand side by side, encompassing the heavens and earth,
When returning, I carry a wisp of residual soul
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