Fifty Strings of Jinse for No Reason

I've watched too many of your plays, but I can't see through the silence of the solitary lamp, which is dark in the middle of the night, just like your breath. Intention: Where does the memory of a person's life end? Not loved? Don't you know how to love? Or does it collapse from the body? Since the soul dies? The legendary phrase "Waiting for others" fell under the cliff, causing gentle ripples of time. Since then, from the Book of Songs to the Song of Songs, the word love cannot be avoided in the chapters presented in various texts. Passing through time and across space, there are always various ways to express love, lovesickness, and longing in the heart. The people of Zheng said, "When you see a gentleman, Yunhu is not happy?", The people of Yue said, "There are trees in the mountains, and the trees have branches, and I am happy for you, but you don't know it." The Ci of Chu has, "There are orchids in the garden, and I miss you, but I don't dare to say anything." And when the sterling silver candlestick blooms with brilliant light, the love song on the other side is just playing. Roses and red wine intertwined to create a sizzling temperature. During the party, the gorgeous dance steps were played wildly. The beauty's feather fan still covered half of her face. The gentleman's tuxedo dress rotated in a graceful arc. When they crossed shoulders, the love between their brows was secretly revealed. Compared with the subtleties in the East, lovers in the West are more straightforward and unrestrained. It is precisely because of this that we have such a hot and sweet festival. In our country, love is discussed like this in "Liao Zhai": The night dew falls lightly and is caught by the thin wooden leaves, so the drop of water flows along the veins of the leaves and extends to the ground, enveloping the moist breath of the vegetation. An ancient temple stands alone in the mountains. It is impossible to find out which dynasty the relics were from. Only the occasional chirping sound and a few wisps of wind will break the peace here. The night crow's wings spread out, leaving the broken cornice in vain. It was at this moment that the scholar used the candle in his hand to illuminate the vague plaque, which had the word "Lan Ruo" on it. The golden paint of the Buddha statue has long since peeled off, leaving mottled spots on the clay surface. He took out the books from the box and read them by the dim light of the candle. There are old locust trees outside the window, and the thick shadows of the trees extend as far as the eye can see. The bright white moonlight lingers among the branches and leaves, rustling when the wind blows. The spiders on the wall are still working, as if weaving immortal spring dreams, waiting for the next passer-by to fall into their trap. Whose skirt swept past the twigs and dead leaves, and came with a night dew. Her hair was tied up in a high bun, and her black hair poured down, entangled in the cold moonlight. She held Suqin in her arms, but Gongshang Jiaozheng was sealed away by Tongmu, and she couldn't tell her thoughts. Her voice was quiet, she knocked lightly on the door, and someone glanced through the gap, only to see the jade flesh and red lips, and the eyes filled with autumn water. With her slender hands, she tentatively caressed the beating heart under the blue shirt. And who lowered his head in panic, like the most pious student before a saint. His ears brushed against her slightly parted lips, and he seemed to hear a gentle chuckle. He refused hastily, a look of embarrassment spread across his face. What's surging in my heart is shock? Is it joy? I only felt the fragrant breeze blowing lightly, but it was her red lips that blew out the candle. When he reached a certain line in "Liao Zhai", he quietly stopped writing and pondered for a moment. However, the foolish men and women in the novel are still trapped between love, heaven and hatred, unable to escape. The red and pink color turned into an empty skeleton, the gentle long sleeves instantly turned into a life-threatening noose, the beautiful woman, the ancient temple, the scholar, the candlelight, the beautiful pen with flowers was finally filled with ink, but at that moment, it was already half past three o'clock in the night, and there was not much time. The warm fragrance of nephrite in my arms, my fingertips clinging to that shoulder, I guess the next moment the sky will break and the crow of cocks will interrupt the happiness. Don't disturb this corner of the world's greedy pleasures. You might as well leave a moment of dreams for the lover to spend the rest of his life as a sacrifice. At this moment, I wish there would be no dawn in this life. In the year 520, he wrote an ancient poem "No Wandering Rain on the West Causeway" based on the image of the white snake Xu Xian. If the love between the green snake with bamboo leaves and Fa Hai is used as the image model, the inspiration comes from the green snake in Tsui Hark's early film "Green Snake". Fighting in the bamboo forest and dragon pond, and the myth of the Danzhou Mancang in the West Lake. You say that I am the demon flower in the underworld and the calamity fire, and that I am your nirvana. Obstacles of karma in the six paths of retribution and the appearance of myriads of forms in the world have obscured the three paths of forgetting and listening to the Dharma. The glazed hexagonal Buddha bell of Jinshan Temple rings. Suti said that a thousand years of pleasure in the world only counts as a moment. The rosary, wooden fish relic and tentacles are warm. In the swirling world, I close my eyes and think of Paraprajna. Whoever is investigating good and evil puts his hands together and looks into the distance, and who is a Rakshasa who closes his eyes and chuckles. Forget, forget, wait for someone to cross the other side and turn into a broken bridge. Feelings, thoughts, forms, and consciousness all fall into the path of impermanence. The karma and fruit on the seven-level lotus-patterned wall of the pagoda are burned to the south, and there is no Bodhidharma, and there is no Sangha. Wearing white clothes and green clothes, hairpins with flowers and crows on the ends of her hair, she lowered her eyes and smiled after a thousand rounds of sutras. Humming Jiangnan tune, Buddha said, turn around and you will be safe. Going to the bamboo forest at the foot of Qingcheng Mountain, if a thousand years later there is an inscription on the monument, we can meet and ask the West Lake to be completed in the palm of my hand, and a long rain will last forever. The whirling stream of light winds itself into a cocoon, and the legend sleeps peacefully on the nine-fold pillow. I dreamed that it was still March and white lotuses were growing on the West Lake. It's a pity that it's you I look back on. Also because the object has been transformed into human feelings, even when we hold hands and look at each other's tearful eyes, we still click to the end. Instead of describing the tears and rain of pear blossoms in detail, the song pen instead outlines the dawn wind and the waning moon on the willow bank, the cries of orioles and the falling flowers that we missed on the way home?