[When We Meet Again Amid Falling Blossoms]
Spring is nearly here, and a white life falls away during an afternoon tea gathering.
Plum blossoms scatter like rain. A young lady stands quietly nearby.
Her expression is calm, her face like jade. She silently blends into the lakeside scenery, serene as a palm held at ease.
Standing perfectly straight in white, she is cold and proud.
Perhaps this is a girl with a story to tell.
Who doesn't have a few stories to tell?
[I'll Write the Scenery of Our Old Home as Idle Chatter]
Who resents that their palm is too small to hold an entire world?
Who waits with such longing, only to watch white turn to red, then red fade back to white?
It seems no one took the first step. Together they said: two half-steps, one mistake.
Nowhere to look back to, drunk with resentment toward plum blossoms.
Winter passes and spring arrives, and all that can be heard is the stir of insects.
Summer ends and autumn comes, and all that can be felt is the chill of White Dew.
"Last night the west wind withered the green trees. Alone, I climbed the high tower and gazed to the ends of the earth."
"Though my belt grows loose, I have no regrets. For her, I grow haggard."
"I searched for him a thousand times among the crowd. Then, suddenly turning back, I found him there, where the lantern lights were fading."
[Story Version]
Childhood sweethearts, innocent and close. Everyone thought that in ten years, she would become the "Madam Ximen" of Wanmei Manor.
After ten years apart, memories faded. Not long after her return, Wanmei Manor was adorned in the bright red of a wedding for another woman.
The sky stretched far away, the waves surged. Her hands tucked into her sleeves, she made no effort to resist being swept into the whirlpool within a hundred li.
A generation's Sword God stood atop the mountain as the cold wind howled past.
Shall we just keep walking like this?
Yes.
I like Ximen Chuixue. That's the only reason I wrote this story.
