It was on a deep night, the breeze, a woman with a flower and moon color, raised her wine glass, asked the moon about things, and made three people into the shadow. The red lips touched the mouth of the cup slightly, the transparent liquid had not yet been drunk, but the heart was wide open, and the echo of "boo" heard the sound of heartbreak.
Cold and lonely, such nights, countless. Tonight it was the moon again, alone. Seventeen-year-old Qingzhao, guarding the beautiful youth, raised a glass and fantasized about the lover who was about to enter her life.
The Moshi cup is deep amber thick and melts before it becomes intoxicated. The bell should have come late. Rui brain incense dispels the soul dream, breaks the cold gold small bun pine, wakes up time and space on the candle red. - "Huan Xi Sha"
Rui brain incense dissipation, cold gold small. Since she became famous, she has written flowers, written about spring, written about spring, summer, autumn and winter, and the things around her seem to be psychic, and have long been integrated with her sad sorrows, advancing and retreating together.
"There is wine in this day and drunk in this day". After a few light drinks, she looked sober, but she poured it into the long, soft wind first. Floating in the air, her affection is deep and no one understands, worried about the moon.
Time flies, but it's long. Chun Qing's mind rose early, but he did not see the person who had the red line in his life. Fortunately, she is a wise woman, knows how to wait, and is willing to endure the relentless polishing and erosion of these years. It's just that spring goes to Chang'an, the long day is endless, and the lively day is still good, but when the wind blows frequently in this night, how should she spend it?
Wine, in such a cold night, became her choice for a long time to pass the loneliness. Drinking in the evening wind, waving a long shirt, two or three lamps, drinking this faint sorrow, melting into the heart, and brewing a new melancholy...
As a woman, it is probably still "talentless is virtue." "Without this sensitive mind, abandoning this delicate soul, a lifetime is just like a February flower, quietly blooming, faintly coming, so bad? Why should you be born with a delicate heart, put these three scenic spots far away, and constantly empty your heart, and die to a wisp of incense?
The clever clear light, the crystal clear light, is not the ordinary woman in the world. Even the tasting has a wormwood aroma, and if so, it is destined to be another soul-destroying night.
I remember reading Lin Huiyin's sentence before:
"The seasons in the world are always changing, and in the spring you leave many residual reds. I said goodbye and didn't want to come back with whom to sigh autumn! Now even the autumn clouds and yellow leaves have been lost, and when the distance is far away, the gray long sky is left, the thorough loneliness, do you endure the cold wind? ”
Again, this is the smart words of a wise woman. Who doesn't know that such a small and exquisite reading but heart-wrenching sentence is not a thoughtful woman like Qingzhao and Huiyin?
The soul dream was suddenly broken, the pillow was cold, and when he opened his eyes, there were only a few cold things to accompany him. In her amorous eyes, everything was filled with sorrow. With the shadow of the self, the two become one.
Amber, the fossil of this conifer resin. Transparent as time, transparent as wine in a glass, hot and pure, burning a little sorrow in the heart.
Candle flowers, ember knots that remain after the candle burns. Layers. Shadows are plentiful. Like the time she had been whistling by, she grew wildly in her body, filled with sorrow.
Brain, thin, translucent ice flakes. It is made of the condensation of the dragon brain incense tree.
Cold gold, a kind of bird. According to legend, during the Reign of Emperor Ming of the Three Kingdoms, the State of Kunming paid tribute to the golden bird, and the bird spit gold shavings like millet. The palace people competed for the gold ornament of the bird vomit, which was called "cold gold". See Jin Wangjia's "Collected Memories. Wei.) Tang Xuhun's poem "Gifting Xiao Alchemist": Also grinding the treasure mirror, just inserting cold gold. Ming Chen and Jiao's "Zhaojun Out of the Plug": "The sand point of the shougong is red, the moss of the lining steps is empty, and the cold gold is yellow." "This refers to a hairpin made of cold gold.
The mood is heavy and the golden hairpin is small. Can't move, a lot of sorrow. Hazy and drunk, lying on the bed, awake, all the sorrows, smoke dissipated, but only the remnants of the red candle opposite.
There is no word to write about love throughout, only a few objects, through it, read it, but soberly perceive the clouds in Qingzhao's heart. "All scenery is love language", Qingzhao's heart has long been injected into these close to himself, the scene is mirrored, two or two pairs, the scene is love, love is also a scene.
Mr. Wu Xionghe commented on the words of "Huan Xi Sha" and wrote, "Qingzhao is dotted with 'amber thick', 'Rui Brain Incense', 'Cold Gold', and 'Candle Red', with beautiful colors and magnificent weather, which can be described as rich and noble. Don't forget that it was written by seventeen-year-old Kiyoshi. At the age of seventeen, how many people are still immersed in the beauty of youth, but at this time, Qingzhao is hurting spring with wine and a little sadness.
Why didn't the destined man come? Why don't you come to understand her style and comfort her heart? People only say, "Flowers are pleasing to oneself," but now they don't even look at the most critical viewers, so how can Qingzhao be at ease?
The moon is swaying, and the night is not sleepy. The glow of a courtyard shrouded the seventeen-year-old of Qingzhao.
A young girl who waits for love, lonely, lonely, willing.
A young girl who has been in Beijing for two years is accustomed to the scenery around her, but she is still not used to the cold style.
The wind of the cold night tore at her heart slightly. Loneliness is unbearable, only with wine Mingzhi. Perhaps, in the middle of a dream and half awake, you can enjoy a happy dream. She was so intoxicated, in her dreams, she threw away these many troubles, went to find the person, under a green and lovely lake and mountain, indifferent to the mountains and moons, the scenery was undead. This may be, in the deepest red dust, meet with it, the fingertips are wrapped in a glittering color, a touch of faint sorrow.
There is no solemnity, no brilliance, but, "The spring light is just right, and my heart rejoices." ”