Mists of the Immortal Path
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Autumn light faded over the bright lake at dusk.
The young man knew nothing of laws or bounds.
One oar cut through blue waves, along a mist-veiled waterway.
Laughing, he caught ruthless thugs like rats.
The winds and waves of old remained unchanged.
Where that fairy face had gone, he did not know.
Forlorn, he played his jade flute, pouring out sorrow again and again.
In a single night, longing seeped into his bones.
...Guan Pingchao.Luan
For the events described, see Volume Two, Chapter Eighteen; for the first stanza, see also the relevant chapters of Volume One.
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