In late autumn, I sailed through Lingzhou, originally to seek out a lost ancient ballad. By chance, I wandered into Yipinxuan on the old street and heard from Chen San, the one-eyed proprietor, a heartbreaking story buried for ten years. Bai Ruolan, the daughter of a wealthy family, and Li Hao, a carpenter, grew close while restoring Biyun Nunnery. Beneath the wisteria, affection blossomed between them, but the gulf between their families stood in their way. Master Bai did everything he could to ruin Li Hao's livelihood, forcibly tore the lovers apart, and made his daughter marry into a wealthier family far away. Li Hao drifted to Shanghai, where he was unexpectedly caught up in a dispute over antiques and forced to flee beyond the border. After her marriage, Bai Ruolan endured cold treatment until she was cast aside. Abandoning her home and belongings, she set out alone to search for him in the distant north. The two endured bandits, Japanese searches, and snowstorms in the forest, suffering hardship at every turn. A bloodstained handkerchief, a pair of ginkgo-wood hairpins, and a broken wintersweet carved from boxwood were all they had left to cherish. The gentle old dreams of the Ling River in Jiangnan were ultimately swallowed by the snow-covered mountains of the Lesser Khingan Range. The smoke and dust of a teahouse recount the world's foolish longings; a fragment of a written record lays bare the despair of lovers swept helplessly through turbulent times, a tragic romance that crossed mountains and rivers only to end beneath the snow and ice.
