Exquisite

Her hands, red as ripened fruit; yellow wine in a golden cup,

The palace walls and willow trees fill the city.

The east wind is cruel; our joy was fleeting.

My heart is heavy with sorrow. Years have passed in separation.

Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

Spring is as it was, but I am wasting away alone.

Tears stain the red marks on my silk handkerchief.

Peach blossoms fall beside the quiet pond and pavilion.

Though we swore eternal vows, I cannot send you a letter.

No! No! No!

This is a story set against a sweeping backdrop. I chose such a complicated tangle of relationships simply to tell a story about silent devotion and the eternal question of fate.

They were betrothed at birth. As children, they grew up together, innocent and carefree, laughing beneath the trees.

Had that accident never happened, he would have completed his training and descended the mountain, full of confidence, dressed in fine clothes and riding a fine horse, sword in hand, to roam the martial world and become a young hero renowned throughout the land.

And she, amid the envious, jealous gazes of countless young women in the martial world dreaming of love, would have worn a brilliant red bridal gown and placed her life in his hands. Then she would have supported her husband, raised their children, and lived to see a house full of grandchildren.

But everything changed the year she came of age. The wheels of fate ground to a halt, then mercilessly rolled off in an entirely different direction...