If there were no wind, no fallen leaves, no bloody sunset, no willow leaves trampled in the soil by flying horse hooves, no heroic lamentations of young warriors on the ancient battlefield, and no mandarin ducks embroidered by young women with needles that once pricked their fingers, there would still be sadness and parting in this world, and there would still be lonely young people galloping against the yellow sand, singing long songs and crying.
I found that in various novels, wind is an essential prop.
On the street where the sycamore leaves have fallen, when the sad girl is waiting for someone who will never appear again, the wind must blow up the fallen leaves or the girl's long hair.
When the enemy's blood rolls down from the long sword in the swordsman's hand, the wind will blow the blood droplets onto the snow, leaving only a faint red mark on the blade, like a lover's blushing cheek.
The wind has passed, leaving only the human hearts in the world, still feeling sad or lonely.
I don't know whose wandering soul is in the wind, searching alone for the memories he left behind in the world.
The wind lingers in the world for thousands of years. It blows over the snow-capped mountains, the pear blossoms, and the young woman singing at the end of the world. One day, when what I found has been found and forgotten, when the person named Mu Mu who likes to recall the past is gone, I wonder if the wind is still looking for it in the vast world.
I have always wanted to write a story about a young luthier who persistently pursued the highest level of qin music. Before his death, he left his soul in his qin. Later, the emperor took the qin into the palace. On stormy nights, the palace people would hear the qin singing in the high pavilion.
I don't know what kind of obsession can make a sad soul go through a long period of time and still play the sound of the piano as clear as water in the palace of Jiuchong. That kind of obsession makes me in awe, so I never know how to write.
Perhaps, pursuing a kind of ultimate beauty is a kind of pain.
However, that kind of pain makes people sink into it and not want to wake up.