Su A Xuan: I walk beneath the vast night sky, lantern in hand, for neither the martial world nor you. Yet I know not how incomplete the hanging moon can be, or how hard it is to have it both ways.
Mo Yan: The trees on Cold Mountain were once bare, and the Green Mountains once held a dream of Liang Hua.
Su Meng Jiu: When I have seen every mountain and river, and grown weary of reading poems, I will send a letter among the clouds, and let the wild geese trace an old road home.
Yu Rong: Brew wine from pine blossoms, steep tea in spring water. I will cook a meal for you and talk with you beneath the mountain. That would be a lifetime of quiet contentment.
Yuan Lian Qing: A cup of clear tea, a faint lotus fragrance. A solitary soul walks alone, secretly like a lonely swan.
Yan Qi: The wind's shadow sweeps past like blue light. Never mistake a narrow blade for a beauty.
Luo Xiao Xiao: A new song, a dance in rainbow robes, and the spring city stirred to its depths. One cup of muddy wine, tears like rouge. Better to go home.
Murong Xue: A wild goose treads the snow, then suddenly forgets the cold. Love and hate, joy and sorrow, all dissolve in a smile.
Li Jishu: Since ancient times, beautiful women have met tragic fates. None compares to the palace of the Li, where a night of blossoms ended all too soon.
You Meng: In this life, I loved three things: the sword, terrible chess, and the long wind. They had their order, and their own weight.
What remains undecided may yet come to pass.
