
Dragon-Hunting Dreams
猎龙梦境
- Status
- Completed
- Length
- 677k Words
- Genre
- Western Fantasy
- Subgenre
- Epic Fantasy
- Updated
- 5y ago
- English
- Request a translation
Synopsis
Stats
In booklists 26
See allSatisfying Reads That Don't Get Abandoned
Time knows only how to make us old. It cannot understand how deeply I love you, or how long I have languished at this parting pavilion; tears fall on my spring coat, and the wine soon wears off.
Great Stories That Left a Deep Impression
A beauty took her own life on the banks of the Wu River; flames of war once consumed Red Cliff; a general grew old in vain at Yumen Pass.
All Good Books
Spring brings life, summer brings growth, autumn brings harvest, and winter brings storage. This is the natural order of Heaven.
A Different Purple Butterfly
Purple Butterfly brings you a list of quality books, every one a personal favorite, carefully recommended. If you like the list, please follow and bookmark it. Your support motivates me to keep bringing you good books.
2020 New Book Recommendations
I've been reading for years, and lately I've found it harder and harder to find good books. On a whim, I decided to make a list and gather all the good books I've read in one place to share with friends. You're welcome to recommend books here, too. If one catches my eye, I'll add it to the list.
Let’s Put on a Show
The red apricots have blossomed, the peach flowers have all faded; alone, I claim the beauty of spring. Unlike the orchids and musk of the human world, my fragrance rises naturally from deep within. Let us not forget each other over wine. Like a beauty, it possesses the radiance of moonlight. I fear only that the flute will blow the flowers away; only Prince Ning could prevent it.
A Lonely Wine Cup
The red apricots have blossomed, the peach flowers have all faded; alone, I claim the beauty of spring. Unlike the orchids and musk of the human world, my fragrance rises naturally from deep within. Let us not forget each other over wine. Like a beauty, it possesses the radiance of moonlight. I fear only that the flute will blow the flowers away; only Prince Ning could prevent it.
A Sequel to Yi Wu Di Zhou
Green clouds of leaves, sheltering golden flakes below. It claims the finest reputation among flowers, pure in both fragrance and grace. Unsurpassed! Listen, it comes from elsewhere. Look: its immortal robes still bear the dew of the Golden Court and the moonlight on jade steps.
The Stockholm Lover
Flowers bloom and fade without regret; fate comes and goes like water. Flowers wilt so they may bloom again; petals fall, bringing sorrow. Sorrow turns to tears, and tears shatter into petals. Flowers dance as they fall, weeping as their petals drift away. For whom do flowers bloom and fade? For whom do they wither in sorrow?
Bitterness Between the Brows
Leaning by the tall tower, I feel the gentle breeze. I gaze into the distance, where spring sorrow rises dimly along the horizon. Amid the grass and fading light, who can understand my silent thoughts as I stand by the railing? I meant to drown my sorrows in wine and sing with abandon, but even forced merriment over a cup tastes dull. My belt grows looser, yet I have no regrets; for her, I grow haggard.
Life Ground to Dust
Behind deep layered curtains, in the Hall of Morrowless Sorrow, I lie awake through the long, quiet night. The goddess's life was but a dream; the young aunt lived alone, with no lover. The wind and waves do not believe the water chestnut vine is weak. Who taught the osmanthus leaves to release their fragrance in the moonlit dew? Though they say that longing brings no good, I don't mind this lovesick melancholy.
Charming, Handsome, and All Man
Where are you now, beneath the distant night sky? I walk beneath the moon reflected in the clear waters. The heavens stretch wide and endless, and my longing for home grows ever stronger. The world around me is quiet and undisturbed. Midstream, the waters are calm and clear. I think of returning as the forest leaves change, and sit sorrowfully as the dew gathers. Still, the cranes on the sandbar let out a sudden cry at midnight.
Loneliness Is No Crime
The paulownia wind stirs the hearts of brave men, who suffer as the dying lamp glows and the cold weaver sings. Who reads this volume of history, and lets the silverfish feast on its pages? Thoughts tug at me tonight, straightening my heart; cold rain falls as a fragrant spirit mourns the scholar. Ghosts sing Bao's poems in autumn graves, their blood-red hatred staining the earth green for a thousand years.
You Can't Top This
Dew on the orchids, like tear-filled eyes. Nothing binds our hearts together; the fireworks are too beautiful to cut down. Grass like a cushion, pines like a canopy. Wind for robes, water for ornaments. The lacquered carriage waits for me at dusk. Cold emerald candles, their light wasted. At Xiling, wind blows and rain falls.
My Exclusive Picks
I once heard of Dongting Lake; now at last I’ve climbed Yueyang Tower. Wu and Chu split the land to the southeast, while heaven and earth float day and night. Not a word comes from family or friends; ill and old, I have only this lonely boat. War rages beyond the northern mountains; leaning on the railing, I weep.
Young Leaders
Green hills beyond green hills, towers beyond towers. When will the songs and dances on West Lake ever end? The warm breeze leaves the visitors drunk, until they mistake Hangzhou for Bianzhou.
Proud to Be Myself
I stroll idly around the pond, watching the fish swim, just as children play with their fishing boats. We each love the fish in our own way: I toss them food, while you cast your hook.
Go Back to Mars
The Legend of Qin’s moon shone over the Han-era passes; the men who marched thousands of miles have yet to return. If only the flying general of Dragon City were still here, the Hu horsemen would never cross the Yin Mountains. A fine steed bears its new rider beneath a white jade saddle; the battle is over, and the moonlight on the battlefield is cold. The iron drums atop the city walls still thunder; the golden blade in its sheath is still wet with blood.
Earth Isn’t for You
Mountains and rivers, past and present, have no lasting master. Amid the blare of horns, herds of horses come and go. Before my eyes, desolation stretches far. Who can I share it with? The west wind ages the red maple trees. How many hidden sorrows lie in the past? Iron steeds and golden spears, a road to a lonely grave at dusk. How deep is this devotion? Deeper than the sunset in the mountains and the autumn rain.
An Overflow of Promises
West Lake is lovely after the flowers have passed, with fallen petals scattered everywhere. Willow fluff drifts through the mist, and the breeze stirs the drooping willows all day. The music and singing fade, and the visitors leave; only then do I feel how empty spring has become. I lower the curtains, and a pair of swallows returns through the fine rain.
A Faded Childhood
The long night obscures the land of China; for a hundred years, demons and monsters dance, and five hundred million people cannot be reunited. A rooster crows, and the world turns bright. Music resounds across the land, even in Yutian; never before has a poet’s spirit soared so high.
Only Strong Liquor, No Talk of the Past
The wind through the paulownias startles the heart; the warrior suffers, while crickets chirp beside the dim, fading lamp. Who will read this volume of bamboo-scripted history, and keep the bookworms from eating it to dust? My thoughts tug at me tonight, twisting my insides. Cold rain falls as a fragrant spirit mourns the scholar. Ghosts sing Bao Zhao's verses at autumn graves; bitter blood, buried for a thousand years, turns the earth blue.
The World Is Mine
Dew on the orchids, like tear-filled eyes. Nothing binds our hearts together; the fireworks are too beautiful to cut down. Grass like a cushion, pines like a canopy. Wind for robes, water for ornaments. The lacquered carriage waits for me at dusk. Cold emerald candles, their light wasted. At Xiling, wind blows and rain falls.
Holding on to a Boyhood Dream
Things may look the same, but people's hearts are different. Ask them: how many times has this land of China gone through separation and reunion? A blood-sweating horse pulling a salt cart is ignored, while people travel a thousand miles just to collect the bones of a fine steed. Now I gaze until the roads through the mountains and rivers vanish from sight. I pity you most as you dance through the night, saying, “A man's heart should remain iron until death.” Show us what you can do, and mend th
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Reader comments 20
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The plot is really interesting, I'm following along!
Keep it up, author! I'll subscribe to everything, even pay extra, as long as you keep writing.
New cover, hope you all like it!
After following this for about half a month, here are a few of my thoughts. First, the book's strength lies in the series of unexpected events that unfold, making it impossible to predict how things will turn out, yet still remaining within the realm of reason. The protagonist's "golden finger" is that he was once the savior, but has lost some of his abilities.
Having just visited Sanjing, I feel like a country bumpkin visiting a village, curious about everything! Haha.
A different era, this setting is great, it's easy to watch, I support it!
It's getting better and better, fantastical and fun!
The world depicted is fantastical and very different; it reminds me of a movie I just watched a few days ago—it's very vivid.
What a messy and boring opening!
This book has a long chapter count and a decent plot; it's already reached 300,000 words in the blink of an eye.