Explore Chapter 68 of 'Spring Ming Outer History' with the original Chinese text, English translation, detailed Chinese vocabulary explanations, and audio of the Chinese original. Listen and improve your reading skills.
Now, Yang Xingyuan had been feeling a lingering melancholy ever since that day when he, along with friends like Wu Bibo and He Jianchen, enjoyed flowers and conversation at Taoran Pavilion. One afternoon, while reading in the Guild Hall, he heard the attendant announce a female visitor. Surprised, Yang Xingyuan hurried out to see who it was. It turned out to be Li Yun. She wore a pale blue cotton gown, with no makeup on her face, which instead revealed a touch of natural elegance. Seeing Yang Xingyuan, Li Yun said softly, "Mr. Yang, I have a few words I'd like to say to you." Yang Xingyuan invited her into the room. After sitting down, Li Yun remained silent for a long while, only fiddling with the hem of her clothes, head bowed.
Yang Xingyuan asked, "How do you have time to come here today? Is there something urgent?" Li Yun looked up at him, her eyes suddenly reddening. She said, "I... I am about to leave Beijing." Startled, Yang Xingyuan quickly inquired, "Where are you going? Why are you leaving so suddenly?" Li Yun replied, "My mother has sent a letter from Shanghai, saying there are some changes at home. She wants me to return south immediately. Once I go, I don't know when I'll be able to come back." As she spoke, she took out a letter from her bosom and handed it to Yang Xingyuan.
Yang Xingyuan took the letter and read it. It contained trivial family matters, but at the end, it mentioned Li Yun's marriage. It said that a match had been arranged for her in her hometown, urging her to return and wed. After reading, Yang Xingyuan felt an indescribable ache in his heart. He forced a smile and said, "This is a joyous occasion. Congratulations." Li Yun said mournfully, "What joy! I... I truly do not wish for it. Mr. Yang, do you know my heart?" Yang Xingyuan remained silent for a long time before finally saying, "I naturally know. But our statuses are worlds apart. In the end, it is but a reflection of flowers in a mirror, the moon on water. Since your mother has arranged everything properly, it is best for you to return."
Li Yun heard these words, and tears began to fall silently. Choking back sobs, she said, "I always knew this would be the outcome. But... but I cannot let go of you. These past days, I have thought of you day and night. I always felt you treated me differently from others. Coming here today, I just want to ask you one thing: do you have any feelings for me?" Yang Xingyuan's heart surged with emotion. He nearly blurted out the truth. But then he thought of his own circumstances and Li Yun's future. He hardened his heart and said, "Li Yun, you are a good woman. I naturally respect and value you. But as for anything else, I dare not hold you back. Please forget about me."
Li Yun heard this, her face turned pale. She said in a trembling voice, "Fine, fine! I understand." With that, she stood up to leave. Yang Xingyuan quickly stopped her, saying, "Wait. Since you are leaving, and we do not know when we will meet again, let me give you something as a keepsake." He took a small jade pendant from his desk and handed it to Li Yun. Li Yun accepted it, clasping it in her hand. Through tear-blurred eyes, she said, "Thank you. I... I will always remember you." Then she left without looking back.
Yang Xingyuan watched her figure disappear beyond the door. His heart felt as if it were being twisted by a knife. He stood there dazed for a long while before finally sinking into a chair in despair. Just as he was lost in sorrow, he heard footsteps outside again. It was He Jianchen barging in with a laugh. "Xingyuan, why are you sitting here alone in a daze? Come, let me take you somewhere nice to lift your spirits." Yang Xingyuan said listlessly, "Where?" He Jianchen replied, "There's a temple fair in the southern city today. It's very lively. Let's go and stroll around." Yang Xingyuan had no interest in amusement, but after He Jianchen's repeated insistence, he had no choice but to go out with him.
When they reached the southern city, they indeed found a sea of people, with gongs and drums clamoring. He Jianchen led Yang Xingyuan around, watching various acrobatic tricks and buying some snacks. As they walked, they suddenly saw a large crowd gathered ahead, with continuous cheers and applause. Curious, He Jianchen squeezed in to look. It turned out to be a traveling troupe demonstrating swordplay. A woman in blue robes, wielding twin swords, danced with flashes of cold light, agile as a swimming dragon. The woman was quite handsome, with a valiant air in her brows and eyes. The onlookers all cheered in admiration.
Yang Xingyuan watched for a moment. Suddenly, he felt the woman's figure looked somewhat familiar, but he could not recall where he had seen her before. Just as he was puzzling over it, the woman finished her sword routine. She sheathed her swords and stood, clasping her hands to the crowd. "This humble woman has just arrived in your esteemed locale. My performance is crude. If there are any shortcomings, I ask for your generous forgiveness." Her voice was clear and crisp, but with a hint of a foreign accent. He Jianchen whispered, "This woman's swordplay is not bad. She seems to have genuine skill." Yang Xingyuan nodded in agreement.
Then, a man who appeared to be the troupe leader stepped forward to solicit donations from the crowd. The onlookers generously opened their purses. Yang Xingyuan also took out a few copper coins and tossed them into the field. The man thanked them and called out loudly, "Next, let my daughter perform a set of fist techniques for everyone. Please enjoy." The woman put down her swords, assumed a stance, and began a fist routine. Her punches and kicks carried a whirling wind, each step solid and firm, clearly the result of hard training. Yang Xingyuan watched with growing suspicion. He felt increasingly that this woman seemed familiar.
After the performance, the crowd gradually dispersed. He Jianchen tugged at Yang Xingyuan and said, "Let's go too." But Yang Xingyuan stood still, gazing at the woman as she packed her equipment. The woman happened to look up and met Yang Xingyuan's eyes. Suddenly, her face changed color. She hastily lowered her head. Yang Xingyuan's heart stirred. He suddenly remembered someone and exclaimed, "Aren't you Lin..." Before he could finish, the woman had already turned hurriedly and hid behind the man.
He Jianchen asked, "Do you know her?" Yang Xingyuan shook his head and said, "Perhaps I was mistaken." But inwardly, he thought, "This woman is clearly Li Ping, whom I once saw at the Nanchang Girls' School, and later the opera singer Lin Yanxi. How has she fallen to performing on the streets here? Her flustered expression suggests she does not wish to be recognized. There must be some twist of fate behind this."
Just as he was pondering this, the man had already packed up and led the woman away hurriedly. Yang Xingyuan wanted to chase after them and ask for clarity, but He Jianchen held him back, saying, "Let it be. Street performers often have unspeakable hardships. Why dig for the root of the matter? It's getting late. Let's go back." Yang Xingyuan had to give up, but he felt a lingering sense of loss.
By the time they returned to the Guild Hall, dusk had fallen. Yang Xingyuan sat alone by the window. He thought of Li Yun's departure during the day and Lin Yanxi's reduced circumstances, and he could not help but sigh with a flood of emotions. Life's gatherings and partings, the unpredictability of worldly affairs-truly like white clouds and gray dogs, ever-changing and elusive. Just as he sighed, the attendant brought in a letter. Yang Xingyuan opened it and saw it was from his colleague Chen Ruokuang at The Happiness News. The letter said that he was critically ill, fearing he would not live long, and hoped Yang Xingyuan could visit him one last time. After reading, Yang Xingyuan sighed again.
As night deepened, Yang Xingyuan tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He simply put on his clothes, got up, picked up a brush, and wrote a poem: "Hearts sundered by savage strings, a fragrant shadow remains; Eyes empty of mantis arms, cold sword light dances. Drifting on rivers and lakes, what is it like? Alone facing a solitary lamp, tears secretly fall." After writing, he threw down the brush with a long sigh. Outside the window, moonlight flowed like water, coldly shining into the room, adding to the desolation.
That night, Yang Xingyuan thought back and forth until dawn, when he finally drifted into a fitful sleep. In his dream, he seemed to see Li Yun approaching with a smile. Upon waking, only tear stains remained on his pillow. Truly: Love's destiny unfinished leaves vain regrets; the unpredictability of worldly affairs always wounds the spirit.