Red Lips

He was a down-and-out scholar, and she was a famous courtesan. They fell in love at first sight. He would draw her brows with his brush, and she would prepare meals for him with her own hands. He told her, "When I pass the imperial examinations, I'll give you a wedding procession stretching ten miles. I won't let you down." She smiled, but kept his promise close to her heart. For those words, she spent every last bit of her fortune. Months passed after he left, and every day she waited anxiously for his return. He lived up to her hopes and passed the highest imperial examination. When she heard that he had come top, she hosted a banquet at the brothel to celebrate. All her sisters offered their congratulations, envying her good fortune. She waited eagerly for him to come and marry her, but the princess took a liking to him and made him her consort. He had always loved her, but he could not stand against imperial power. When she heard he was marrying the princess, she sent him a letter on his wedding day, asking whether he still remembered his promise: When you pass the imperial examinations, you'll give me a wedding procession stretching ten miles and won't let me down. The messenger returned soon afterward with his reply. Its bold, forceful handwriting cut her to the heart, every word: You were a courtesan. How could you ever be worthy of a top scholar like me? He knew that only this would make her stop loving him and waiting for him. She took the letter, threw back her head, and laughed, then fell to her knees. She laughed at imperial power, at the faithless man, and at the whole world. The next day, she entered the Buddhist order. The sun rose and set, day after day. When she looked back, was it regret, or longing...?