The West Riverbank

After reading "Why Didn't Tong Jing Retire?", look toward the wine before you and wipe away the hero's tears.

Then look at him beneath the apricot altar, gesturing as he lays out his plans for the realm. The shocking events have come around again, and so has the Ghost Festival.

For ten years, there has been no word from the messenger bird. The past is too painful to dwell on.

"I still remember the things that happened in the west tower after we parted, and the bonds I formed with so many kindred spirits. I seek out those lingering regrets again; the strings of my green qiqin, like Sima Xiangru's, have snapped."

"Lately, I fear speaking of those days. I formed bonds with so many kindred spirits. The moon was faint, the lamps dim. Where can I find the clouds that returned in my dreams?"

So many bonds, so many bonds.

The bright moon must be smiling at me, laughing at me now, for betraying the springtime feelings in my heart, wandering alone and singing alone.

"Brother Meng Que, so you're here too."

"Remember: your promise is weighty."

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