Reminiscences of Dancing

Qi Lin leaned weakly against the cold and damp wall, hearing from time to time the lashing of whips and the cowardly cries of prisoners, as well as the rustling of unknown small insects crawling across the hay around him. There was a broken rice bowl lying not far away. Perhaps even the rats in the cell disliked it and knocked the bowl over. She licked her dry lips, her hair like withered grass stuck to her face, and she didn't even want to raise her hand to smooth it away. There was no moon visible outside the small window, only the pale moonlight shone through the pane on the dim ground. She thought of Buddha, who said: This is a whirling world, and whirling is regret. Without regrets, no matter how much happiness is given to you, you will not experience happiness. Qi Lin twitched the corner of his mouth mockingly. This person who came here was actually holding a pearl in his hand and looking down at everyone...