Unearthing the Past

Between laughter and conversation, I sigh at how desolate the world is.

So many stories,

so many half-written pages.

Tonight, with a hint of drunkenness,

I forget the face of the sages.

I add oil to half a lamp,

lighting half the study.

I splash a bucket of ink, sketching across the canvas.

White fish swim through the middle of the inkstone.

The days are too noisy, but the night road is too long.

With one stroke, I break the rules.

In this life, I refuse to be ordinary.

With beauties on both arms, I roam free and revel in joy.

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.