At Xianyi Temple, guests filled every seat. The talented scholars sat together, all waiting for Yu Xuanji to critique their poems.
Day and night, revelry and feasting went on, extravagant and chaotic, amid the songs and music of beautiful women.
Whether peerlessly beautiful or alluringly seductive, all the sweet voices and captivating smiles pursued throughout the temple could not conceal the loneliness that gnawed at my very soul.
My heart was like a vibrant crabapple blossom past its prime. Once the bloom fades, only scattered red petals remain. They fall to the ground and turn to dust, only to be trampled underfoot.
