Having beheld the vastness of the sea, all other waters paled by comparison; having beheld the misty clouds of Wushan, all other clouds lost their splendor.
Even amid ten thousand blossoms, I could not be bothered to turn and look back.
Perhaps it was because I cultivated the Dao, or perhaps because of you!
This poem, "Thoughts of Parting," had come to Wang Chen as he gazed upon the gravestone in the stone pavilion, deeply moved by the intense emotions contained in its inscription. He condensed a talisman into verse as an offering of remembrance.
At the same time, it expressed his apology for mistakenly entering the valley and disturbing the deceased!
He had never expected Changchun to see it.
Faced with this Purple Mansion cultivator's question, Wang Chen did not dare slight him and hurriedly replied, "When this disciple was young, I heard a wandering Daoist who called himself 'Yuan Zhen' recite it."
A poem like this was simply not something a person of his age and status could have written.
Changchun clearly did not believe Wang Chen had written it either.
How could Wang Chen dare tell such an easily exposed lie before a Purple Mansion cultivator?
Besides, he had no wish to become a plagiarist.
In the world of cultivation, great power belonged to oneself; very few people placed much value on literary talent.
"Yuan Zhen."
Changchun nodded. "He must have been an extraordinary man. Pity I was never fated to meet him."
He sighed. "I know the sea, yet I do not know Wushan, nor have I ever seen how magnificent the clouds of Wushan are."
The Purple Mansion cultivator let out a long breath and reached out, drawing a peach blossom into his hand.
With a clench of his five fingers, the flowering branch instantly