The west wind whispered as we climbed the lofty tower; river mist shrouded the islets.
Think of broken walls and ancient ramparts, warriors' bones sunk in mud; deserted shrines and crumbling walls, curved Wu blades weathered by frost.
Still they spoke of that year's service to the throne, ten thousand armored warriors, fierce as Pixiu, sweeping through the icy currents.
Who could have foreseen the blood at Ni Tang?
It stained a thousand autumns through.
A young man's elegy mourned past and present,
Making the Provincial Deputy still his cup, the Military Commissioner lose his pendant, and all the assembled men of rank fall silent for a long while.
Then, drunk, they bowed their heads to golden cups!
A great wind swept up pear-blossom snow (the wind scattered the paper), as though Young Master Wang's sword spirit had once roared!
By the railing, clouds concealed a solitary figure, and tears hid in clear eyes.
Wang Yi raised his cup to the sky. "Confucius said, 'Sacrifice as though the departed were present.' Though we cannot see Lord Wang's surviving grave today, these rivers and mountains remain the rivers and mountains of old. Come, let us honor Wang Xiaobo with Jingkou wine."
Everyone grew solemn and raised their cups together. "To Wang Xiaobo."
Then they poured their wine onto the ground. It seeped between the bricks and stones, winding like trails of tears.
Wang Yi set down his cup and sighed:
"The Taiyuan Wang Clan has been going downhill ever since Wang Xiaobo died."
Le Zhan sighed as well:
"Indeed. The Taiyuan Wangs suffered two family calamities. One was the Wang Gong affair, which all but wiped out the branches of Wang Guobao and Wang Gong. The other was when Emperor Wu of Song killed Wang Yu and more than ten