How many heart-wrenching days and nights have I, dressed in white, sat on the misty ancient city wall, shedding tears with melancholy, gently plucking the strings, and playing a tune that laughs at the sorrows of the mortal world!
Amidst the maple forest at night, I moan softly atop the building. Whose sorrowful melody is this? I wish to listen to the chords of sorrow, hearing them break, severing three thousand threads of obsession.
In this life, you and I met by chance on the path of the ancient city. In that one glance, I still gazed at your figure so intently, etching it onto the grand scroll belonging to you and me.
That year, in the tranquil night, the gentle moonlight reflected softly on your delicate face. The moon bathed everything in its light while time stood still. You leaned against me, ah, at that moment, I fell in love with you in an instant. How happy I was! If only the five hundred glances from our past life could make time stop for us. Perhaps, all things will be buried by time, shattered into fragments of a dream. I like to be with you like this, waiting for you to slowly open the plain letter I wrote for you in our past life.
Do you remember a poem? Back then, I was immersed in a sweet current of happiness, and the first ci poem I wrote for you, "Queqiao Xian," went like this:
A clear blue wave dances gracefully like a fairy descending from the heavens, two or three coquettish glances sparkled as if about to ignite flames, four or five songs of orioles echoed in springtime dreams, intoxicating my soul thoroughly.
Back then, you obviously smiled, your lips curling into the gentleness I had long dreamed of.
That year, you said you didn't need any solemn vows, nor lofty promises of eternal love. All you wanted was to stay with me here in Xiangyang, watching the half-city shrouded in sand and smoke, and the sun setting slowly. You said you would dance for me in this mortal world. As I read your graceful dance moves, accompanied by notes scattering across the sky, and against the backdrop of the ancient city painted red by the sunset, you danced in the pavilion while I played the strings beside you. The clouds were tinged with sweet colors, the peaks meandered through the heavens, and we were just like Liang Zhu, transformed into butterflies, entwined forever.
That melody was so long, so tragic, so heart-rending, floating over how many lonely and bewildered days of mine. Obsessed, I played and sang the tune "Laughing Farewell":
Now, you quietly chose to leave me, like a breeze that silently dissipates from my world. The five hundred glances from our past life have turned into wisps of smoke and vanished, leaving behind only desolation and sorrow. I sleep with loneliness as my pillow, counting the days filled with pain you've given me, my longing has become an illness.
In reminiscence, your smile was sweeter than pure water, carrying my affection.
Amidst the maple forest at night, I moan softly atop the building. Whose sorrowful melody is this? I wish to listen to the chords of sorrow, hearing them break, severing three thousand threads of obsession.
But now, you are truly gone, like a breeze that has disappeared from my world. The five hundred glances from our past life have turned into wisps of smoke and dissipated. I start to become silent, fearful, and sad. I begin to learn to forget, counting the years of fragmented memories, enjoying playing tunes alone, becoming a prisoner of recollection, embarking on a journey forever locked in the cage of longing...
At the end of human habitation, flowers fall - whose home are they? How many times have we fallen off the wind-swept slope, looking back at each other's shadows, tears streaming down, sorrowfully extinguishing the lamp's brilliance;
Preface
Five hundred glances in our past life only exchanged for a fleeting encounter with you in this life. I don't know why, but I remember you so deeply... Perhaps, in those five hundred thoughts, in those five hundred glances, I am already tired, already weary. I no longer want to simply glance to think of you, nor use longing to love you. So I wish to hold your hand, thereafter walking together through the endless paths of this red dust world, growing old together.
Thoughts, endlessly entangled day and night, pain ceaselessly eroding me. That dry memory has already stretched into a long river of accumulated sorrow, flowing alone in the corner dried by history, singing alone, the once carefree moments replayed, extended frame by frame...
In reminiscence, your lips were as crimson as the afterglow, carrying my deep entanglement;
Eight or nine songs of yellow orioles calling tenderly bring back ten years of guarding heaven's edge, sighing at the brevity, hundreds of glances, thousands of concerns, waiting for ten thousand years to love you.
In our past life, you and I met on the cyclical path. At that moment, I had already deeply engraved your appearance, inscribed on the plain paper destined for you and me in the next life.
At the end of human habitation, flowers fall - whose home are they? Several times we fell off the wind-swept slope, looking back at each other's shadows, tears streaming down, sorrowfully extinguishing the lamp's brilliance;
In reminiscence, your eyes were as bright as the spring breeze, carrying my lingering attachment;
That year, a gentle breeze blew, blowing your raven black hair. You and I stood by the willow lake, silently watching the pair of mandarin ducks playing in the water. Time seemed to stand still, hesitating slowly. That was a time that could make one joyfully cry! Back then, you didn't know what I was thinking, thinking about my mind in the five hundred glances of our past life, hoping to be able to lean on each other silently like this in the next life, combing through distant quiet times, and at this moment, I have finally achieved it.
I hate, why must I use five hundred glances to exchange for your company in this life? I am so unwilling, yet I still do it this way because you are a love poison I have consumed. I would rather use glances and longing to alleviate the pain of loving you, willing to let the venom of tenderness cruelly corrode me, rather than let the merciless years blur your peerless beauty in my heart.