The Southern Song's remnant lands and rivers inspire endless sorrow, while Lin'an's abundance of food and goods sends one's thoughts wandering. The Mongol cavalry tramples south, raising its butcher's blades and carving a deep furrow into history. A frail young scholar and the landlord's music-loving daughter. They could neither save the world nor provide for the people. “In these troubled times, the thing we are least able to face is whether the future will turn out to look like the familiar past.”
Perhaps love is the cheapest thing of all! Those who love their country stain the executioner's blade with blood; those who love the people die in popular uprisings; those who love their family see it shattered and lose everyone dear to them.
Love seems no different: when hungry, one cannot find food; when thirsty, one cannot get a drink; and poverty cannot be undone. And yet, it is a bowl of congee by the sickbed; a handkerchief still treasured on a long and arduous journey; a wisp of gentle warmth held safe within a heart frozen shut.
