Book Five: V8

"The Fifth Book" Introduction The Four Great Books are four letters written to the person who did not survive. Beside the bridge, on the bluestone slab, fog is rising from under the bridge. Shi Naian, Luo Guanzhong, and Wu Chengen were sitting at the tea stall, waiting for someone. Cao Xueqin came and said nothing. Po Meng asked: "What hurts you the most?" Song Jiang's cup of poisonous wine, Zhuge Liang's lamp, Sun Wukong's five hundred years, Daiyu's half a sentence - the four authors each took out the pain locked in their bones. Cao Xueqin's pain was the most special: he locked himself out of the door for ten years and kept the key in his pocket, fearing that it would be empty when he opened the door. He waited for Zhi Yanzhai to say, "Stop writing." He waited for thirty years, but when he did, it was empty. On the afternoon when I was burning the manuscript, the paper was held up to the lamp. The edges first turned yellow, curled, and blackened. The flames jumped up and swallowed up Daiyu and the whole dream. The gray is white and very light, and it floats when the wind blows. The fifth person comes. He said: "I have received all your letters." Cao Xueqin said: "No. You are not that person." "Then who am I?" "You are us. You are the one who didn't make it. You are the one who wrote the letter." The fifth man squatted by the bridge and put his hand into the water. Ashes floated on the water. The ashes were cool, but when they touched my fingers, they burned. There are words in the ashes. He picked it up, spread it in the palm of his hand, and said, "I received it." The letter was burned, and the ashes drifted to the other side. You'll know when you pick it up. This is a novel about "enough" - enough pain, enough cracking, enough seeing, enough being here.