Un joven errante

Capítulo 7

The world is in turmoil

Who wins and who loses is only known to heaven.

Jiangshan Xiao

Misty Rain

The waves wash away the dust and grievances of the mortal world, leaving behind only pride.

The people laughed

No longer lonely

The heroic spirit still lingers, and I laugh foolishly.

La...

Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of splendor enveloped him. His voice was delicate and ethereal, and the boy's slightly melancholic face seemed to have witnessed countless vicissitudes of life. His singing moved everyone present to tears, leaving them utterly devastated. Yet, the world still left him alone in his loneliness; no one knew the pain and sorrow in his heart. Everyone sheds the glamour of their lives, washes away the superficiality, and returns to their most primal and purest state.

Loneliness is a solitary celebration, and celebration is a form of loneliness.

It captivated this enigmatic night. It bewitched this enigmatic boy.

Everyone remembers the boy's beautiful music that day, and his lifeless, indifferent eyes.

Yunying gazed at her mistress, who seemed completely transformed after waking from the water. For a moment, she felt as if her exquisite face shimmered with radiant light, everything about her was breathtakingly beautiful. But Yunying had never seen so clearly before that her mistress's cold eyes held no emotion, no vitality. She also knew that her mistress was not as happy as she appeared; she had been grieving all along, but the wound was buried so deep that it deceived everyone, and almost even herself.

Miss, as long as you are happy and joyful, nothing else matters. Yunying will stay by your side for life. Until the day you push me away, I will never betray you.

Volume 1, Chapter 11: Ups and Downs

The song ended long ago, and I was oblivious, my eyes empty. I was still immersed in the emotions I felt when watching the movie "Swordsman," particularly the transcendent, life-changing interplay of the zither and flute. I remember being so moved, tears streaming down my face, sobbing uncontrollably. Now, I'm cold and indifferent. Living in this world, I know only my own joys and sorrows. There's no one left who cares for me, no one left to love me. Mom and Dad, I miss you so much. I want to be back by your side. I'm afraid my disappearance will make them search tirelessly, will turn their hair white, and will make them age quickly with longing. God, why are you playing such a cruel joke on me?

The essence of this song lies in Su Shi's "Ode to the Red Cliff," particularly the lines: "We are but mayflies in the vastness of heaven and earth, a mere grain of millet in the boundless ocean. I lament the brevity of my life, and envy the endless flow of the Yangtze River. I wish to ride the immortals and roam freely, to embrace the bright moon and live forever." I, An Jin, swear this is the last time I indulge my vulnerability, the last time… I allow myself to weep in my heart… From now on, I, An Jin, will live well, to live a life stronger and more vibrant than any man here. But now, let me release all the loneliness, helplessness, sadness, and even the tears I've been holding back in this song for the last time.

This is the last time. From now on, you will be the new An Jin. Calm and composed. Cold as ice.

What does it mean to feel like you're standing on the edge of an abyss, walking on thin ice? I've experienced it all since I came into this world. I have no family. No one I love. Only myself. And I can only rely on myself. This loneliness will continue indefinitely.

Everything feels like yesterday.

I gave a bitter laugh, and though I wanted to cry, the tears suddenly vanished. I steadied myself and realized everyone was staring at me, bewildered. Sima Langya's gaze was unfathomable. Though still as cold as ever, it was filled with a strange, burning emotion that almost melted me.

I shook my head and looked at him again. His eyes were calm and indifferent, like still water. I must have been mistaken.

A tall, aloof figure, tangled, flowing black hair, thin, slightly pursed lips, and eyes as still as a lifeless pool. It was the first time I had ever looked at someone so intently, and I was momentarily stunned.

At that moment, a voice came from inside: "This music should only exist in heaven." Many people have said this, but I think this is the true lament of a kindred spirit.

I answered instinctively, "But it's lonely at the top."

With a soft sigh, the owner of the voice said again, "Young masters, please come in."

I was still somewhat dazed, my mind blank with memories. Just then, Brother Sima suddenly came over and pulled me inside by my sleeve. That pull seemed to bring my lost soul back, and I couldn't help but smile gratefully at him. Only then did I recall the faint sound of the zither in my memory; it must have been the harmony of that genius—Feiming.

A middle-aged man dressed entirely in white sat cross-legged on the ground, drinking alone. His face was fair and refined, yet his eyes were filled with loneliness, and his hair was streaked with white that seemed out of place for his age. I thought to myself that his heart had grown old, and his appearance had aged, burdening his otherwise robust body. For some reason, his white hair moved me, filled me with a sense of melancholy. It was as if he were my future self, as if I were seeing another version of myself. I couldn't help but sigh softly.

He glanced at us indifferently, seemingly oblivious to our presence, and after a long while, he smiled and said, "Throughout history, only wine has ever been the most exquisite thing in the world; nothing is better than it."

I sneered: "Trying to cut water with a knife only makes it flow more; trying to drown sorrows with wine only makes them worse."

He was stunned. He gave a bitter laugh at the carved bronze cup overflowing with wine in his hand, repeating it blankly.

"That's right. But if I've even given up alcohol, how am I supposed to survive?"

Looking at him, he seemed troubled by unrequited love, and my heart softened. I suddenly remembered a quote I'd seen online before, which concluded that the best attitude towards past loves is to cherish them.

"collect."

"What?!" He turned his head and stared at me intently.

With boundless pity, I advised him, "Keep all the pain, sorrow, love, and memories of the past in your heart. That's a beautiful thing too." Actually, I was talking about myself as well.

He gave a bleak smile, his body trembling slightly, and finally forced himself to remain calm as he said in a cold voice, "This is the final hurdle. Since we have different views on wine, let's make 'wine' the topic."

He tilted his head back, took a sip of the fine wine in his hand, and recited with magnificent momentum:

Youthful years flow like water.

The curtain reflects the peach blossoms, but the person is gone.

Half of the cherries were picked by birds.

At this moment, we are speechless.

After a moment's hesitation, he downed his drink in one gulp and continued:

When will the bluebird cut the brocade words?

Who feels the chill of the west wind all by themselves?

In my dream, I drift away with a glass of wine.

Ten thousand words are not worth a cup of water.

Life is full of disappointments.

When will we raise our golden goblets again?

Finally, her voice trembled slightly, a hint of a sob in her voice; she was a person departing. Her hand, clutching the wine glass, trembled slightly.

The beauty of the river moon is boundless.

Only the tears of those who parted remain.

Seeing my face was almost deathly pale, Brother Sima thought I was stumped and was about to advise me to give up. But I stubbornly shook my head at him and said with a carefree smile, "I'll go, brother. We made a promise to drink together, until we're drunk." Then I smiled faintly at Fei Ming, "For the sake of my brother and me drinking with Miss Dan Yi, I'm sorry, senior, you have to lose."

Ignoring his disdainful gaze, I calmed my turbulent emotions and spoke clearly, like a soaring voice cutting through the air:

Have you not seen the Yellow River's waters come from the sky, rushing to the sea never to return?

Do you not see the bright mirror in the high hall reflecting the sorrow of white hair, black as silk in the morning, turning to snow by evening?

Enjoy life to the fullest when you're successful; don't let your golden goblet stand empty before the moon.

Everyone has their own unique talents, and even if I spend all my money, it will come back again.

Let us feast on roasted lamb and slaughtered oxen, and drink three hundred cups of wine in one go.

Master Zeng, Master Danqiu, let's drink! Don't stop drinking!

I'll sing you a song; please lend me your ear:

Bells and drums, delicacies and jade are not worth treasuring; I only wish to be drunk forever and never wake up.

Sages and worthies of the past are all forgotten, only drinkers have left their mark.

Prince Chen once held a banquet at Ping Le, where he drank ten thousand cups of wine and indulged in merriment.

Why does the host say he has little money? Just buy some wine and we'll drink together.

A dappled horse, a thousand pieces of gold, call the boy to exchange them for fine wine, to dispel with you our eternal sorrows.

My heart felt like it was being torn apart, the pain spreading uncontrollably, a tightness, a jolt, a leap, as those distant memories, like things from the past, surged up again. Why, why can't I forget, and why can't I let go...?

Those who sink will sink, those who float will float. I truly cannot…

Before he could even look at everyone's expressions, he laughed self-deprecatingly, "You say that wine can't solve all your troubles, but you're still addicted to wine and the past."

Fei Ming suddenly stood up, his expression strange, his body unsteady, and he staggered back a few steps.

Sima Langye looked at my pale face, which was as white as a sheet, frowned slightly, and said coldly, "Is that enough?" As he spoke, he came to support my thin body that was about to collapse.

Fei Ming gave me a deep look and sighed, "You win."

The moment the words were spoken, the crowd erupted in uproar, and everyone looked at me as if I were a monster. I felt ashamed; in truth, I had won through someone else's hand, making my victory dishonorable. However, judging solely from his poetry, it was too indulgent, too disillusioned, too melancholic, lacking grandeur, masculine spirit, and magnanimity. Its foundation was too low, and he was destined to lose to the poet immortal Li Bai.

He continued, "I have a villa in the western suburbs. If you have time, Mr. An, you are welcome to come and chat."

I deeply admired his talent and bowed respectfully to him, saying, "If you don't mind, senior, I will certainly choose a day to visit you."

He then turned to the aunt who stood frozen in place and said, "Mother, please tell Danyi for me that I have failed her expectations. I must take my leave now." The aunt seemed surprised that anyone could overcome such obstacles and was somewhat annoyed by the failure of her money-making plan. However, when she turned to us, her face was once again perfectly beaming with a smile, and she said, "Danyi has been waiting for a long time. Please come this way, gentlemen. Danyi will belong to you two tonight."

Towards the end, her smile turned ugly, and she was almost in tears.

I silently said in my heart, "I'm sorry, auntie."

Hearing the auntie's words, the crowd exchanged knowing glances. "Hey, you bunch of perverts, do you really think people who come here have that kind of purpose?" "Well, while I don't, I'm not sure if you do, sir!"

I was annoyed, but I pretended not to be embarrassed at all and said to him naturally, "Brother, we've waited so long. Today, to celebrate our sworn brotherhood, we can finally drink a few cups while listening to Dan Yi's music."

Upon hearing this, many people blushed with shame. The upright gentlemen looked at those with filthy thoughts with disdain, their contemptuous gazes as if they had offended a divine being they should not have offended.

Volume 1, Chapter 12: Passion

Sima Langye watched me eagerly following the older woman to see the pretty girls, and pondered for a moment. What kind of young man was this? Sometimes as innocent as a child, sometimes as weathered as an old man, sometimes carefree, sometimes deeply sorrowful. He looked innocent and pure, yet possessed a wealth of talent, like a hidden genius. Whoever he was, we were sworn brothers in this life. Only now did Sima Langye truly take the sworn brotherhood at Pengju Tower seriously. His gaze towards me gradually became more inquisitive and interested, like a lion that had found its prey, full of dangerous intent. I, however, was completely unaware. Like prey waiting to be caught.

The older woman escorted us to the door of the courtesan's boudoir and then left, and the crowd that had come with us dispersed. Presumably, this courtesan was treated with a certain degree of respect. Yunying and Shen Qing, whose face was ashen, waited outside the door.

I pushed open the door and entered. The person inside had a solitary figure with their back to me. Hearing the sound, they turned around and gave us a faint smile. What does it mean to have a smile that can launch a thousand ships? I've seen it all today. My eyes lit up, and my steps became unsteady.

As soon as I entered, I revealed my roguish side and leered, "Beautiful sister, please don't give us any more questions. My brother and I just want to freeload drinks on your turf. I'm exhausted today. This is what they mean by 'running out of ideas.'"

Dan Yi stared blankly at my nonchalant demeanor, somewhat bewildered. The legendary young man who had become famous overnight, as described earlier, was so different from her own imagination and the accounts of others. Sima Langxie, standing beside her, also twitched at the corner of his mouth.

However, Dan Yi calmly walked over and said with a smile, "Dan Yi will naturally not make things difficult for the two young masters. Dan Yi had prepared the finest wine, thinking that no one could drink with Dan Yi, but unexpectedly, I met someone destined to meet me."

I stared blankly at her gentle, warm smile, and unfortunately, I was momentarily lost in thought. She really was like a kind older sister next door.

I couldn't help but walk over, put an arm around hers, and said with a smile, "Beautiful sister, there's no need to be so formal. You can just call me An Jin from now on. And next to me is my older brother, Sima Langxie. Beautiful sister, can I call you sister from now on?" My smile was as innocent as a child's.

Sima Langya...? Could it be...?! How could that be!

Dan Yi's hand trembled slightly as she poured the wine, spilling a little unintentionally. Her eyes widened as she looked up at Sima Langxie, and instantly the air around her seemed to freeze, a murderous aura filling the air, making it difficult to even breathe. Truly worthy… even his aura was so chilling. Looking into his icy eyes, Dan Yi knew that whatever she said now would prevent her from leaving this room. Then she looked at me, who was gripping her hand, my expression blank and innocent, my eyes clear and unfocused.

He sighed inwardly, composed himself, continued pouring wine, and said to me, "Alright, from now on I'll call you Xiao Jin. It's Dan Yi's blessing to have such a cute little brother."

On a whim, I exclaimed happily, "Why don't we take advantage of this auspicious day and our good fortune, sister, and become sworn sisters? I see you're a bit younger than my eldest brother but older than me, so I'll call you 'Second Sister' from now on."

Dan Yi was startled, and Sima Langya's expression also became complicated, but I was completely unaware of the strange atmosphere.

Suppressing her frustration at my naiveté, she forced a smile and said, "Danyi is, after all, just a prostitute, of lowly status. I'm afraid she's not worthy of your attention. Xiaojin, you should give up this idea as soon as possible, lest you offend your sister."

"What? Such outdated feudal ideas..." I muttered under my breath.

"Xiao Jin, what did you say?"

"No, it's nothing," she waved her hand dismissively. "Actually, I think everyone is equal, there's no such thing as a class distinction. You don't need to worry that I look down on you. In fact, my background is even lower. My father was a lowly slave in a wealthy family, and my mother was a maid in that same household. I was born a lowly slave, but the three of us lived happily together. I think that's better than the scheming and backstabbing of those rich families. Later, my parents passed away, and I escaped. Now I do some small business to barely make ends meet. How about that? Lower than you, right? Besides, I don't care about these kinds of backgrounds." Forgive me for lying through my teeth, and Mom and Dad, please forgive me too. I only did it because of her damned class mentality, not because I intended to belittle you like this. But they probably don't believe me anyway, how could a lowly slave be dressed so elegantly and have servants following him around!