About This Novel
One evening in the autumn of the Gengshen year of the Republic of China, when the moon was rising over Dongshan Mountain, Master Xuanzhi sat quietly in a mountain room with an east-facing window in Zhuqing Temple, reading a poem brought by Mr. Fei Eryin from Meixi Academy. This is a mourning poem, written to his deceased wife Ye Xiaozhu. It still has seven lines and a very sad tone. The handwriting becomes more and more sloppy towards the end, and the ink is dry. You can imagine the grief in your heart. The postscript at the end of the poem says that his wife passed away at around 0:00 this morning. Mr. Fei also said that his wife was clean and auspicious when she died, which was a blessing from her previous life. Xuanji folded the letter and threw it into the word-cherishing furnace. He turned off the light and sat in the darkness, staring blankly at the east window. Outside the window is a patch of white moonlight, and occasionally the shadows of leaves drift over, adding a bit of cool autumn flavor. Perhaps he felt a little cold, so he put on a coat and began to recite a scripture.
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