"Perhaps only Yi Xiang Manor—this Yi Xiang Manor that still bore traces of his presence, that held memories we shared—could offer some real comfort to my heart, neither cold nor warm..."
"Perhaps... you did not know... the origin of 'Yi Xiang'..." Yue Mingxin's voice dropped several degrees lower. Whether from depleted vitality or her own shyness, Zhang Xiaohua could practically see a faint blush upon the veiled face in his mind... "Spring dreams leave no trace; autumn curtains leave only fragrance."
Yue Mingxin murmured the words, then lifted her face to the sky again. Her emotions nearly slipped out of control as she cried sorrowfully, "Yang Lang, oh, Yang Lang! When were you and I ever not deeply in love? You recited this verse while drawing my brows. What joy of the inner chambers could surpass that? Such happiness... could it be... that you did not cherish it in the least?"
"Even if you attained the Immortal Path, even if you gained longevity, the Immortal Path is bleak. Without my companionship... could you truly live happily?"
"Frost filled the ten-mile calm lake beneath the sky; each strand of dark hair grieved for passing years. Alone beneath the moon, gazing at our reflected forms; I envy only mandarin ducks, not immortals!"
"Yang Lang, even ordinary mortals can understand this truth. Why must you alone remain so stubbornly obsessed? If... if you and I had not suffered such grave injuries, how could I have obstructed you so? But... since the Immortal Path could not be hoped for, and you and I had such a karmic bond... why could you not... for my sake... cast everything aside?"
"Perhaps, for women, whether village wives or immortal maidens, love is always a tether. But for men, it is merely a burden, merely an experience... Yang