My Xiang Jun has yet to awaken; when you do, may you warm the gentle breeze. I gathered a thousand seeds, yet couldn't keep the winged insect from flying away.
The apricot tree drinks the rain, its buds now open. The grub in the soil begins feeding on the sap in its roots again, making the tree sway in pain. The wind rises, and a few petals fall. Time rushes after the tree's gaze. The grub unfurls, and the apricot tree grows quiet. The tree looks at the insect, its golden wings; the insect looks at the tree, its golden fruit. The tree grows worried, while the insect is glad. The insect crawls toward the trunk, and the tree trembles in the breeze, perhaps tickled. The insect slowly comes to a stop, perhaps about to leave, and the tree grows quiet again. Suddenly, the tree shudders. The insect has bitten a hole in its trunk. It really does hurt.
Until fate takes pity on the tree and insect, turning them into human beings, they are destined never to live in peace. A story buried in the dust, with an ending already decided. Can you sense the hidden sorrow?
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