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墨書 Inktalez
The song had ended long ago, yet I remained oblivious, my eyes vacant. I was still immersed in the emotions that surged when I watched the film "The Smiling, Proud Wanderer," where the interplay of the guqin and xiao transcended the secular and elevated life itself. I remembered how, in my youthful innocence, I was moved to tears, unable to speak. But now, I felt nothing but indifference; in this world, survival meant knowing only the warmth and coldness of my own heart. There were no loved ones left to care for me. Mom and Dad, I miss you so much; I long to return to your side and be with you again. I fear that my disappearance would send you searching endlessly, turning your hair gray and aging you rapidly in your longing. Heaven, why must you play such a cruel joke on me?
Su Shi's "Red Cliffs" encapsulates this sentiment perfectly: "I send a mayfly into the universe, a mere grain in the vast sea. I lament the fleeting nature of my life, envious of the endless Yangtze River. Riding on flying immortals, embracing the bright moon for eternity." I, An Jin, vow that this will be the last time I indulge in my vulnerabilities, the last time... I allow myself to weep in silence. From now on, I will live well, stronger and more vibrant than any man here. But for now, let me pour out all my loneliness, helplessness, sadness, and even the tears welling up in my eyes through this song.
One last time. After this, you will be a new An Jin—calm and composed. Cold as ice.
What does it mean to tread on thin ice? In coming to this world, I have experienced it all. No family. No one to love. Only myself. The only one I can rely on is myself. This loneliness will continue to torment me.
Everything feels like a past life.
I let out a bitter laugh; just as I wanted to cry, my tears suddenly vanished. Gathering my thoughts, I noticed everyone staring at me in a daze. Sima Langye's gaze was particularly inscrutable—still as cold as ever but filled with an unusual warmth that almost melted me.
I shook my head and looked at him again; my eyes were calm and shallow like water. Surely I must have been mistaken.
His tall and indifferent figure, his flowing black hair, his thinly pressed lips, and his eyes—quiet as still water—made me realize for the first time how deeply I was captivated by someone.
At that moment, a voice came from inside: "This tune should only exist in heaven." Many had said this before, but it felt like true appreciation.
I instinctively replied, "But high places are cold."
A soft sigh followed as the voice continued: "Gentlemen, please come in."
Still somewhat dazed, memories left my mind blank. Just then, Brother Sima walked over and tugged at my sleeve to pull me inside. That simple gesture felt like it had pulled back my lost soul; I couldn't help but smile gratefully at him. It reminded me of that faint melody from earlier—surely it was the genius Feiming's accompaniment.
Inside sat a middle-aged man dressed entirely in white, drinking alone with an air of elegance about him despite his pale face showing signs of loneliness mixed with premature gray hair. It struck me that his heart had aged while his body should have remained robust. For some reason, those strands of white hair moved me deeply; they evoked a sense of melancholy within me as if they represented my future self—a glimpse of another version of me. A soft sigh escaped my lips.
He glanced at us indifferently before breaking into a smile after a long pause: "Throughout history, only wine is truly exceptional; nothing compares to it."
I scoffed softly: "Drawing a knife to sever water only makes it flow more; raising a cup to dispel sorrow only deepens it."
He was stunned, staring blankly at the ornate Bronze Cup overflowing with wine, a bitter smile creeping onto his face as he repeated, "Not bad. But if I even give up on wine, how am I supposed to live?"
Seeing his expression, which seemed burdened by love, my heart softened. Suddenly, I recalled something I had read online long ago and said, "For old loves, Collection is the best attitude."
"Collection?" he turned to me, gazing intently.
With deep Pity, I urged him, "Collect all the pain, all the sorrow, all the love, and all the memories of the past in your heart. It's a beautiful thing." In truth, I was speaking to myself as well.
He forced a bleak smile, his body trembling slightly. Finally, he composed himself and said coldly, "This is the final challenge. Since we have different views on wine, let’s make 'wine' our theme."
He tilted his head back and took a sip of the fine wine in his hand before reciting grandly:
"Splendid Years Flow Like Water,
The Shadow of the Curtain and the Green Peach Has Departed.
Half the Cherry is a Bird's Beak Holding the Remains,
At this moment, facing each other, one forgets to speak."
After pondering for a moment, he downed the rest of his drink and continued:
"Azure Sparrow, When Will You Cut the Brocade Words?"
Who recites the coolness of the west wind alone?
In dreams, I drift away with a cup of wine,
A myriad of words are worth no more than the remnants in this glass.
Life in this world is often unsatisfactory,
When will I once again lift the Golden Goblet?
In the end, the voice carried a hint of choking emotion, revealing the speaker as a person who had departed. The hand gripping the wine cup trembled slightly:
The River Moon is unparalleled and endless,
Only leaving behind tears from those who have parted.
Brother Sima looked at my pale face, thinking I was troubled, and was about to advise me to give up. But I stubbornly shook my head at him and smiled freely, saying, "I’m here, brother. We promised to drink together; we won’t return until we’re drunk." Then I smiled lightly at Feiming, "For my brother and me to drink with the Dan Yi Girl, I apologize to you, senior; you can only lose."
Ignoring his disdainful gaze, I steadied my fluctuating emotions and declared loudly like a voice breaking through the air:
Do you not see the waters of the Yellow River coming from the heavens, rushing to the sea and never returning?
Do you not see the bright mirror in the high hall lamenting white hair, morning like black silk and evening turning to snow?
In life, one must enjoy to the fullest; do not let the Golden Goblet face the moon empty.
Heaven has bestowed talents upon me for a reason; even if I scatter a fortune, it will return again.
Roasting sheep and slaughtering cattle, let us be merry, for we must drink three hundred cups.
Zeng Master, Dan Qiu Sheng, pour the wine, and let the cups not stop.
Let me sing a song for you, please lend me your ear:
The sound of bells and drums, the delicacies of jade are not worth much; I only wish to remain drunk and never awaken again.
Since ancient times, sages have all been lonely; only those who drink leave their names behind.
Chen Wang once feasted at Ping Le, indulging in wine and revelry without restraint.
Why does the host speak of lacking money? Just buy more wine to share with you.
With a five-flower horse and a thousand-gold fur coat, I call my boy to exchange them for fine wine, to drown our eternal sorrows together.
My heart feels as if it is being torn apart, unable to contain the spreading pain. Each tightening and pulling, each tremor and leap brings forth memories as distant as past events. Why can’t I forget? Why can’t I let go…
Those who sink will sink; those who float will float. Indeed, I cannot…
I didn’t have time to see everyone’s expressions before I self-deprecatingly laughed and said, “What’s the use of saying that wine cannot resolve a thousand sorrows when I am still lost in alcohol, lost in the past?”
Feiming suddenly stood up, his expression strange, his stance somewhat unsteady. He stumbled back a few steps.
Sima Langye looked at my pale face, like white cloth, frowned slightly, and coldly said, “Is that enough?” As he spoke, he came to support my frail body that was about to collapse.
Feiming gazed deeply at me and sighed, “You’ve won.”
As the voice rang out, the crowd erupted in a frenzy, their gazes fixed on me as if I were a monster. I felt a pang of shame; after all, I had achieved this through another's hand, a victory not truly earned. Yet, looking at the poetry, his work was too immersed in melancholy, too filled with disappointment and longing. It lacked the grandiosity and the boldness of a true man, standing too low to ever compete with the poetic genius of Li Bai.
He continued, "I have a villa on the outskirts of the western suburbs. If Young Master An has some free time, you are welcome to visit."
I admired his talent and respectfully bowed to him. "If you do not mind, I would be honored to choose a day to pay my respects."
He then turned to the Aunt who stood frozen in place. "Mother, please convey to Dan Yi that I feel unworthy of her expectations. I shall take my leave now." Aunt seemed taken aback that someone could navigate these social intricacies, her plans for profit thwarted. However, when she turned back to us, her face was perfectly adorned with a smile as she said, "Dan Yi has been waiting for a long time. Please follow me, gentlemen. Tonight, Dan Yi will be at your service."
At her last words, her smile faltered, almost breaking into tears.
I silently apologized in my heart. I'm sorry, Aunt.
Upon hearing Aunt's words, the crowd exchanged ambiguous glances. What? Did you all think that those coming here had such intentions? Although I did not share those thoughts, I couldn't be sure about my elder brother.
I felt frustrated internally but maintained an air of nonchalance on the outside. I spoke to him naturally, "Brother, after waiting so long for this day to celebrate our brotherhood, we can finally enjoy a few drinks while listening to Dan Yi Girl's music."
Upon hearing this, many in the crowd blushed with embarrassment. The righteous among them looked disdainfully at those with lewd thoughts, their scornful gazes suggesting that those individuals had offended someone they should not have—the Divine Son.
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