Heartbroken Beauty

After reading this article, I felt overly sad for a month, which was exactly what it was titled. Later, I still couldn't stop being sad every time I read it to the end. Although the older I get, the less I can bear to read sadistic stories, but the sadness here is not because of "why can't you HE", but because I understand very well how the story has come to this point, and it can only go so far. If you think about it carefully, the open ending that ends abruptly is considered a mercy. How can the number one in the world fall in love with the person who was once expected to be the number one in the world? The answer is no. The focus is on how to describe the unwillingness, frustration and subtle jealousy of a person who fails to become the best in the world. How could these emotions turn into Tokiya Mingya's lament because he couldn't hate them, and turned into brooding, and were thrown out at the end. This actually does not conform to the writing logic of classical male jealousy. It is not a plot against him (the villain), a duel with him (the opponent becomes a friend), nor is it a lament about the second place. Instead, it writes about a very obscure and tortuous emotion, jealousy and love in a love-like framework, hence the "question eye" in the Sicao universe. "There was a time when I even hated the sword. I couldn't hate you, I could only hate the sword." Meng Fanghui said softly. "Whether you meet me or not, you will eventually become the best in the world; but it is because of Han Jin that I became the Meng Fanghui I am today. Just think of me as a grudge; not everything in the world can be as you wish." I think this is also the reason why Sad Li was criticized for not having much magnanimity, because this is never a story about Jianghu and Jianghu. If you kill my dad, I will kill your dad. It is cool and heart-wrenching enough, because right and wrong are like clear-cut flags. No matter how much blood is shed, at least it will not be morally wrong. But if the world were not a place of addition, subtraction, and right and wrong, then this moral hypocrisy might seem to be self-inflicted and lead to the fruit of "hate." This kind of "hate" that can't be admitted and is unwilling to be admitted, rationally knows whether to hate or not, but in the end, it is still unable to stop the most real instant reaction, so I start to feel ashamed and start to reflect that my hatred is too dishonorable and "hurts my temper". The most honorable way to find in this kind of consumption of a trapped beast is "I can't hate you, I can only hate the sword." And for a swordsman, hating the sword is of course hating himself. In a chivalrous world that emphasizes mutual sympathy and resignation, it is too rebellious to talk about not being willing to give up. Some people may think that this is completely pretentious and sentimental, but to me, this is completely different from the story of a male author who is so narcissistic that he wants to create a world to accommodate his own narcissism to justify "jealousy". This kind of story is exactly what I need most. I often laugh at myself when I am frustrated and understand that Xiao Meng is a well-deserved senior brother despite being thrown into the crowd, but sometimes my eyes can only look at the place that makes you painful; I also understand that being a senior senior brother is already a gift that is envied by thousands of people, but I have no choice but to want to be the best in the world. Hate comes and goes and I still hate myself. The desire is too deep and the ability is too shallow. Tokiya Mingya's lament is just a show. After the poisonous fire in my heart is burned out, there is still ashes, and when the ashes fly away, there is still blood. When the blood is gone, my life is over. At this time, I have no courage - or I have never had the courage. I have to "have nothing to look forward to" and wait for the whim until the end. Fang Hui Fang Hui, Xiao Meng, where is your spring without a tragic failure? If this story were just a fable about a man trapped by his own dignity and incompetence, perhaps it would already be a good story in some people's minds. But apart from the large amount of words and ink, the "Han Jin" who seems to have become a piece of skin casts another layer of shadow on this story. As another coordinate in the story, Han Jin is completely opposite to Meng Fanghui. No one knew what kind of life Han Jin lived before he became known to the world through the First World War, but we can deduce one or two from many details. His seemingly unconventional choice after becoming the best in the world, and even if he was drunk and dreaming of beautiful cars, bells, and food, he would still say to someone who couldn't win him when he couldn't hide it: "Who are you? One person speaks and ten people follow." The ridicule and resentment of this sentence not only exposed Han Jin's "hatred" for Meng Fanghui, but also exposed the cruelty of the world that the story itself questioned. Han Jin was first excluded from the world full of hierarchy and respected power, and then he was held up high. His way of revenge can only be self-destruction, because whether he is a respected hero or a killer who pays the highest price, he has only become a part of that world. He regarded Xiao Meng as a symbol of that world, to bear grudges, to conquer, and perhaps to forgive, but Xiao Meng did not give him this chance. How can people who don't even understand loneliness find inner peace. Therefore, it is not unreasonable for Han Jin to hate Meng Fanghui. In the end, Meng Fanghui planned to return to Xiaoxiang, but Han Jin's whereabouts was not explained - because he had no place to go back to. He has never loved anyone and no one has ever loved him. There is only a sword destined to abandon him and a world that has not given him any promises. Sad Beauty is really a fable written by a pair of haters who are not lovers, who are afraid of the weak and people will always be weak. The young pistils are covered with thick flowers, nothing more than that.

(Taking the liberty to reprint the article) Chapter 6 Flying Flowers Of course Han Jin is not dead. Three or four days later they arrived at Gangneung, during which time he could be said to have been very unwell. Sometimes he would stagger while riding the horse, trying not to notice the pool of siltation in his body. It's still very cold, and God won't see his face for a few days. He could barely eat, but he was too embarrassed to live on alcohol. But he's not dead yet either. As he looked at Meng Fanghui, his desire to survive became very strong. His desires are the same as any mortal's; power, wealth, lover. The difference from ordinary people is that ordinary people can only think about it, but he can basically achieve it. As for the price he paid several times the price of ordinary people, that was nothing to him. He is so focused on himself that he has no interest in dominating others. Instead, he often closes his eyes and is dominated by others. And it is easy to get bored with the things he gets. Four months ago, he lost his entire fortune in one night at a casino in the capital. Meng Fanghui is a completely different type of target from the past, so it can be imagined that it is very difficult. It was this feeling of challenge that made his blood boil and he was eager to try. He almost felt like he was eighteen years old again. Of course, for Meng Fang coming back, this is a bit like repaying kindness with enmity. He and Han Jin had been at each other's throats, and there had been no news for a few years, but he always had an easy-going temperament, adapting to changes with stability and thinking on the bright side. Moreover, he knew Han Jin's temper very well. He was not reserved at all. He only wanted to give advice and be good at dealing with people. He would not tell anyone more, and he believed in the teachings of Confucius. But Han Jin suddenly wanted to nibble on the grass beside the nest, and it was difficult for even Meng Fanghui to excuse him. What's even more troublesome is that the two of them used to have their arms around each other, but now they have to guard against each other occasionally. The two entered the inn one after another and went up to the second floor, carefully keeping a distance of seven feet. Meng Fang said back to the waiter: "Please bring some tea first." Han Jin held his breath and focused on the tea, but it was of no use. He only felt that Meng Fang's white wrists were shining brightly in his eyes. He composed himself and chose a corner far away from Meng Fang to sit down. If the store wasn't so quiet, he would have to shout to speak. Meng Fang frowned: "Why are you sitting so far away?" Han Jin lowered his voice and told the truth: "Because once I get close to you now, I can't help but want to have sex with you." Meng Fang's eyelids twitched a few times, and she felt a little sad and angry when she spoke again. "You've never been like this before." Han Jin said: "Nonsense, the past was before, and now is now." He couldn't help but get up and walked from far to near to Meng Fanghui. Meng Fanghui raised her head and looked at him, resting her left hand on the table with a look of no desire. Han Jin suddenly realized that it was too late to talk about the matter. Anyway, he had no image to maintain, so he simply took the risk: "Seriously, Xiao Meng, don't you really want to try it with me? I promise it will be fun... Fast. If nothing else, you have to trust me. Maybe you will fall in love with it as soon as you try it, and you won't be able to stop! Try it and you won't lose a piece of meat. If you really don't like it, let's talk about it..." Meng Fang's eyelids twitched a few more times. This time, not only the corners of her eyes, but also the corners of her mouth were twitching slightly. It took her a long time to squeeze out a few words. "If it weren't you who said this to me here today..." Han Jin knew the second half after hearing the first half of his sentence and quickly continued it for him. "I will definitely be hacked to death by your sword." "You may not die..." "But the one who is talking to you is none other than me." Han Jin knows everything, has a quick mind, and goes straight to the point. "Xiao Meng, don't you think this means..." "What does it mean? I won't kill you because I can't kill you." Meng Fang interrupted him. "You know that since I can't kill you, I won't really walk away, so you have to say this to me, Han Jin?" The circles under his eyes were a little red. Han Jin panicked, and without thinking about it, he immediately pointed to the sky and said that although he made a disrespectful request, he never meant any disrespect. If this nonsense does not make sense, there is only one person in the world who can understand it, it is probably Meng Fanghui. Meng Fanghui may not understand, but after all, Meng Fanghui will not be in trouble with him. The bitterness that suddenly filled her chest just now has been suppressed. In retrospect, it might have been a bit of a fuss, so Meng Fanghui could only smile disapprovingly. "You're just seeing me for fun." He returned to his old motherly, seductive manner. Han Jin's head felt as big as a bucket upon hearing this. "Isn't that right? Because we are not new at all. I don't care which part of you is wrong. Anyway, I don't dare to accompany you on your whim." Han Jin chewed on the last meaning, suddenly realized, and slapped the table, feeling that he was smarter than ever. "Xiao Meng! Are you scared?" Meng Fang looked back at him, really frustrated. "What am I afraid of? Are you afraid that you, the overlord, will take advantage of me?" "I'm not that kind of person!" Han Jin complained. He had always been willing to give in to flowers, but based on his recent performance, he wasn't very strict about this bottom line. "Xiao Meng, do you know what I'm thinking about now? I want to pluck out my heart and show it to you." "You know what I'm thinking right now? I want to throw you out of the window." "Okay then." Han Jin laughed. "Xiao Meng, you will regret it!" He really pushed open the window and jumped down, frightening the only guests and waiters at the table next to him. Thinking that this man was sick, they all crowded to the window and looked down. Only Meng Fang was still sitting there, feeling that the tea was miserable. In fact, Han Jin was miserable. He jumped up and down, finding that he couldn't hold up his breath in the air, and secretly screamed that something was wrong. Fortunately, the second floor was not high, not as high as the trees in Xiaoxiang last time. After landing, I rolled a few times. I reluctantly got up in the dim night and immediately ducked into the corner of the alley next to the store to avoid being watched. He calmed down for a while, then suddenly remembered what Meng Fang said back: "You should find a woman." Even though Han Jin was talking so much, Meng Fanghui just thought that he was the wrong person to vent to. In view of Han Jin's numerous criminal records, this advice cannot be said to be sarcastic. He looked up. A gorgeously decorated carriage was slowly passing in front of him. The white horse's steps were broken and even, and a silver bell hung around its neck. A scent of fragrance emanated from the tightly covered silk curtain. Han Jin subconsciously raised the corners of his mouth. The shadows of the people inside the curtain swayed over and over on the silk curtain like water, giving the eyes a refreshing touch. The cars and people had disappeared. A solitary golden lamp and silver stand was left on the street trampled by horse hooves. Han Jin stepped forward to pick up the broken flowers, feeling like he had done this action a hundred times. The room was very warm. The whole small building was dark and warm, and the fragrance was not incense, but a slightly tired floral fragrance, just like the one in Han Jin's hand, it just didn't overwhelm the others. The curtains had already been raised, and they dropped silently the moment he walked in. The screen is just for getting around. There is a woman sitting on the bed. Han Jin was not sure for a moment whether this was a woman, because she had a face that looked like that of only thirteen years old. Her cheeks were full and round, her eyes were dark, and her lips were bright red, almost like a child's. Her limbs under her clothes also looked like a child's, with rich skin but a strong and small frame. However, her gaze was the kind that only a slut would have, an extremely seductive and extremely pure gaze. When a man encounters this kind of gaze, even if he considers himself to be an outstanding person, he can't help but feel like moths are attracted to him. Han Jin looked at it and sighed in his heart. "Sorry, I didn't bring a gift." He said, politely not moving forward, but sat down at the round table, as if he wanted to take a good look at this beauty with the goose-footed lantern. The woman looked at him curiously. "Who are you?" She asked. "Han Jin." Han Jin said. "Who are you?" "I'm a princess." Han Jin smiled, walked to the bed and knelt down on one knee. "The common people have seen the princess," he said. A strange eagerness appeared on the princess's face; she leaned forward as if to pull him to his feet. But Han Jin avoided her tender little hand. The princess looked at him doubtfully. That kind of unbelievable and hurt doubt is more deadly than the wavering hope before. "I have met all kinds of people." Han Jin said, he had already retreated to his original position. "But I haven't met a princess yet." "Don't you dare?" The princess said arrogantly. Han Jin shook his head. "I just think this opportunity is rare." He said sincerely. "Rather than doing things that I can do in a while and have done many times, I want to know some other aspects. For example... What did the princess eat when she was a child? Did she eat porridge and pickles in the morning just like us ordinary people? Does the palace she lives in be a thousand times as big as this house? How many clothes do she need to change in a day? Do she need to walk on her own?" The princess looked at him, her child-like eyes widening. She put her hands on her knees, looking very well-behaved. After a while, her eyes slowly lowered and she fell into memories. "We won't have breakfast." She said slowly. "The first meal in the sun is always very bitter. The palace is made of stone, very high, big and very cold. At sunset, there are many crows. No one helps me walk, only my grandma teaches me how to read." She suddenly lightly kicked her left foot, and one of her embroidered shoes fell to the ground. Without socks, the delicate ankles exposed seemed to be specially made for the hot tiger's mouth. Han Jin couldn't remain indifferent anymore. He was desperate and knelt down in front of her again, picked up the embroidered shoe and wanted to put it on for her. The princess grabbed his sleeve. Han Jin felt like the world was spinning, and he instantly realized that she was lying underneath him, holding on to his clothes with one hand, causing him to lose his breath. Her eyes have been closed, and her childish face can easily arouse a kind of perverted desire. Today he had this evaluative thought several times, pretending that he was not the person involved. "Do you like being a princess?" He said breathlessly, holding his hand on her loose hair to prevent himself from completely pressing on her. "Do you like the past... Or do you like now?" "Now." The princess said irritably, unable to feel the envelope of his breath, she loosened her hand, her palms were hot, and her cold fingertips touched his Adam's apple. "Now... It's warm... There are flowers... And men..." She suddenly opened her eyes and the pressure on her body completely disappeared. Han Jin sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her, arranging the messy clothes. "Princess doesn't have to do such things." He said kindly and stood up, as if he couldn't feel the bloody gaze behind him. He had moved away from his original position, and what the dagger pierced was just an afterimage in his field of vision. Even though he continued to move forward without stopping, he was faced with Han Jin's chest that he didn't know when to turn around. Han Jin's fingers pinched the blade of the dagger. The princess subconsciously wanted to withdraw, but found that the indestructible blade seemed to have been cast in his hand, and even began to twist. Her bare feet on the floor suddenly felt an unbearable coldness. "Princess doesn't have to do such a thing." The princess stared at him. Her eyes were large, both black and white, and this glare gave people a sense of terror, as if she was not a real person, but just a beautiful, lifeless doll made of hard materials. Han Jin let go of his hand as if he was bewitched. "Princess of the Demon Cult on Wanchong Ridge... Are you here to avenge your father?" He hadn't dreamed about Wanchong Ridge for a long time. The cold and long stone palace and the frightened flocks of crows stretched in two endless rows. However, the heat and brightness were unable to protect themselves, and the red candles struggled not to be annihilated in the darkness. This wasn't the first time that the sword was stained with blood, but in front of Yuchi Lian, it couldn't be treated as an insignificant description. He was like a stranger who fell from the sky, without a father, mother, name, or surname. He had no burden, no experience, and no memories to disturb him. There is no way out and no fear. Of course, he didn't really live in the world, he just inexplicably landed on the tip of an iceberg on the sea. If he died here, no one would ever care about the long and suffocating climb he went through. He has a sword. That's enough! He has no sword now. The princess did have a short sword in her hand. Every movement she makes is extremely precise. Even a killer who has been trained specifically for the purpose of killing since childhood will not have the precision that seems to be controlled. Abandoning all unnecessary angles, forces, and temptations, the blade that sank into his chest was not even an inch longer than necessary. However, none of this could move him; before his eyes, he could clearly see only Wan Chongling, which had been lost and regained, and Yuchi, who fell under his sword. "If your father knew anything about it, he wouldn't want you to take revenge." Han Jin jumped out of the window again. Not that he had come to love the feeling of being off the beaten path. But experience taught him that at this moment, this path might ensure that he encountered the least danger, namely: four killers. Of course, these are all very good killers, already the highest level he can encounter among his peers. He can almost deduce their annual income at a glance. As for the princess, of course she is completely different from them. She is a weapon that can only be used once, gunpowder that can only be discharged once, and crashing in a destined heart may be the entire meaning of her life. This thought made Han Jin feel very uncomfortable. After killing four people and running for several miles, the discomfort exceeded the limit of what he could bear. He squatted by the ditch and began to vomit non-stop. He vomited blood and other unknown ingredients in large mouthfuls, as if he wanted to vomit out all his internal organs. Finally he finished vomiting and his mouth felt full of foul stench. He stood up unsteadily, threw the deformed dagger into the ditch, and wanted to rinse his mouth. Gangneung was relatively prosperous, and there were many houses with soft light, but he had no energy to talk to anyone. He staggered through the darkened street, stepping haphazardly through puddles covered with a thin layer of ice. The feeling of his soaked trousers clinging to his legs was devastating. And the smell of blood and smoke. That was probably just his imagination. He successfully returned to the inn, and it took some effort to convince the shopkeeper that he was not a madman begging for food. Meng Fanghui was still waiting for him there. The posture was exactly the same as when Han Jin jumped down, as if Han Jin had only been out for less than half a quarter of an hour. He frowned when he saw Han Jin. "You killed someone," he said. Anger surged in Han Jin's chest. He wanted to beat Meng Fanghui immediately, but he felt dizzy as soon as he thought about it. His weak knees could hardly keep him standing, and he was still holding on to the table with one hand. "I don't kill people, why should I wait for someone to kill me?" Meng Fang looked at him melancholy. "That's not what I meant," he said. "I killed someone too." Only then did Han Jin see the exposed sword blade next to him. Youth is still spotless and clean. The walls are also very clean, the floor is also very clean, everything is clean. Maybe this is not the place where the incident happened. But why didn't he notice when he walked in? This harmless doubt only paused in his mind for a moment. Not enough to gather the consciousness he was losing; he didn't really want to know why.

This is so heartbreaking to write. Meng Fanghui's description of her mentality is so wonderful: the young man's spirit is broken prematurely, and everything he does after that feels empty, either love, hate, or emptiness. Well!

Han Jinfang replied, "I can't hate you, I can only hate the sword." Meng Fanghui's ambition was to be the best in the world when she was a boy. After time removed the snowy debris, it became unwilling and agitated. "What Han Jin can do, he can do occasionally." Han Jin doesn't understand loneliness. He is too lively, too dangerous, and too easy to get what he wants. Not everything in the world can be what you and I want. Ending with oe is the best place for youth.

Wow wow wow wow, open ending! But I always feel that Yi Xiaohan is a person who will never let Xiao Meng go like this. If he has been stalking her for a long time, I don't believe that Xiao Meng can remain immovable.

Chapter 6 So beautiful TT

After the two parties met, they both wanted to stay away from each other.

The last three paragraphs are placed with strong contrast, like a prophecy.

It's such a touching story... It's so smooth that I'm not sad, but I know I will remember it for a long time... Thank you to the author for writing such a good article here...?

"Yes" is a big thorn in the side of the author~