As the editor of this book, I have put a lot of effort into the editing process, as if I too followed Li Si, the official from Shangcai, all the way to Xianyang, through the ups and downs of his tumultuous life. The thrilling twists and turns, the rise and fall, within and outside the book, are separated by only a thin line. Truth and falsehood, good and evil, kindness and resentment, friends and enemies, loyalty and treachery, life and death - these moments pass by in a flash, and when you look back, it is already too late to realize. The tragedy has already been cast, but history has yet to deliver its final verdict.
The bizarre and unpredictable history, the rugged and perilous path of an official's career, the world dominated solely by men, the black and white world without intermission - where there is brotherhood but no sentiment, where one forgets righteousness for profit, just to grasp power in one's hands, to stabilize the empire, to rule the world, even one's father or Buddha would be sacrificed, at the cost of countless innocent lives, without the slightest hesitation. A general's success comes at the cost of countless bones, and so it is with battlefields as well as officialdom.
It's no wonder everyone is willing to climb higher; the view from above is unique.
At the beginning of "Farewell My Concubine," it says: Prostitutes lack feeling, actors lack morality.
Prostitutes should display their emotions in bed, while actors can only exhibit morality on stage.
Everyone has something they rely on. A doll relies on its umbilical cord, a child on its mother, a woman on her man. Some people's charm is only present in bed, and once away from it, they are as good as dead. Others' appeal exists only on stage, and once off it, they too are as good as dead.
Ordinary individuals, with blurred features, though deceived by life too many times, filled with regrets and dissatisfaction, can muddle through by being a little more oblivious. Life itself is also a play.