Hua Qing Jue: First Draft

One reckless throw in Lan Ke, and the silk quilt turns cold; mulberry hibiscus blossoms scatter beside the Three Paths.

Half a verse of "Picking Mulberries" begins on the brocade zither; as you cross through this fleeting life, only your embroidered robe remains.

In her first life, she was the Flower Lord of the Flower Palace in the Profound Void Realm of the Ninth Heaven. He was a battle-commanding High God of the Profound Clarity Realm of the Ninth Heaven.

He led her across the borders of the mulberry hibiscus groves, where they watched blossoms drift and clouds gather and disperse. She wrote half a verse of "Picking Mulberries," and he said he would write the second half.

The towers and gates of the Ninth Heaven were beyond thought, flowers staining the agarwood with their color. In the endless twilight, their sleeves fluttered as they shared their innermost thoughts.

But in the end, he abandoned her for a woman of the demon clan and fled without a trace.

In her second life, she was Ghost Eleven, famed throughout the underworld, known as the Ghost-Handed Gentleman. He was Shopkeeper Ping, wealthy beyond compare, known as the Ghost-Faced Gentleman.

She took him to admire every kind of flower, to see the mulberry hibiscus in all its splendor and the world at peace. She wrote half a verse of "Picking Mulberries," but would not let him take up his brush to finish it.

She helped others cross over by giving up her own life span; he helped her remember.

One person's memories are a city. Time erodes every pavilion and tower, turning them all to sand. When the years are spent, that city vanishes along with the life that has passed away.

A city of sand is a person's memory.

She stood outside that city for a long, long time. When she suddenly entered it, everything within had already collapsed to ruin.

In her third life, he helped her find that city again, but his own sand scattered like smoke. He said he wanted to see her dance the "Brocade Zither" once more, beneath a downpour of mulberry hibiscus blossoms.

Listening as the flowers withered in the Heaven of Parting Sorrow, they met again, only to learn that their fleeting life had already ended. No silk strings of the brocade zither sounded by her ear anymore; only half a verse of "Picking Mulberries" remained:

The Phoenix Calamity leaves the mulberry hibiscus trembling; I yearn for you to the point of madness. My temples have turned white, yet in this fleeting life I can never forget you, no matter how hard I try.