I was a young undercover detective, but somehow transmigrated to the year Jiazi. I only wanted to wander freely through the mortal world, yet I could not escape the dilemma of being caught between two sides.
War suddenly broke out, and I found myself working as a spy once more, my heart full of uncertainty. The bridge to the afterlife was short, but no one crossed it; the Yellow Springs ran long, leaving souls unable to sleep.
The King of Hell gathered with his court in the Star-Picking Tower; past ties were settled beneath the Terrace of Looking Homeward. The people's suffering was truly heartrending, so let us rebuild the cycle of reincarnation here in the human world.
Years later, we gathered again, almost as if no time had passed. The stars filled the sky, the waning moon shone on the tall tower, a beauty sat by my side, and warm wine slid down my throat.
The young man was still a young man, and friends were still friends.
I sigh: A beauty fair as jade, the moon like a hook; over wine, we speak of the changing seasons.
Speak of the changing seasons? What a grand dream of spring and autumn.
