It's a taste that sends chills down your spine.
The horse suddenly neighed and shoved me violently. I quickly grabbed its head, and with a flick of its wrist, it threw me onto its back and sped away like the wind.
Looking back from afar, I saw that the tree I had just been standing on was engulfed in flames, the fire so fierce that even thick branches were falling from it. If I were still under that tree… I dared not think any further. Just as I was about to ride away, I suddenly heard a mournful bird cry echo throughout the entire forest.
Bird! I suddenly pulled on the horse's head, and a fiery red ball suddenly flew up from the fire in the treetop, its shape just like a huge bird taking flight.
The firelight finally dimmed after a long time, and everything became dark as night fell.
I gently stroked the horse beneath me. The fire must have frightened it, and it was fortunate that it was so protective of its master; otherwise, I don't know if I would still be alive today.
Suddenly, another bird song rang out, no longer so mournful, but as melodious and lingering as a song. A five-colored feather fluttered down before my eyes, and when I opened my palm, the feather shone brightly even in the darkness.
I looked up and saw the colorful bird singing and dancing. It was beautiful. As it darted and turned, I could vaguely see its colorful plumage. It was indeed the bird I was looking for.
The horse let out a long neigh, seemingly in response to the song circling above, and the bird fluttered its wings and gracefully landed. It even nodded slightly to me.
I bowed in return. Such strange beasts are probably all sentient beings, just like the nine-tailed fox, which once transformed into human form and was loved by people.
It slowly took off, seemingly leading the way for me. I rode my horse close behind, and soon we found a bamboo forest.
Only young bamboo shoots are eaten.
I rode around it on horseback when I suddenly caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head and saw a serene bamboo house, and outside the house stood a solitary figure in white.
Fu Xi had no hair tied up; his thick, ink-black hair cascaded over his plain white brocade robe, like an ink wash painting spreading across the purest white Xuan paper.
"Come, Phoenix." He waved his sleeve, and the colorful bird flew over as the wide sleeve caught the wind.
He walked step by step to the front of the horse, his brow furrowed with an unyielding weariness.
“It’s a phoenix, isn’t it beautiful?” he asked me. “It will take your soul away, but I will stay in Fuchi.”
Heavenly secrets cannot be revealed, is that right? He didn't even offer an explanation, he just wanted me to follow his instructions step by step. I left, taking this final step, leaving myself no way back. Fortunately, all of this is about to end.
He handed me a delicate porcelain bottle and helped me down from the horse. I understood my situation, and although I resisted, I would never push him away like I used to.
A bamboo couch—I know this is my final resting place.
He stood by the couch, a slight smile playing on his lips, as if this were a wonderful thing.
“You’ve suffered a lot.” His fingertips gently traced the pattern on the porcelain bottle in my hand. “This medicine is sweet.”
What does it matter if it's sweet or not? It's just the last bite.
"You will soon understand all the questions in your heart, all the secrets I have told you that cannot be revealed. No one will hide it from you anymore, no one can hide it from you." He let out a long sigh. "Everything in this world is about to end."
Even as it was about to end, his tone always seemed to emphasize how important I was.
"Jimo, he..."
I looked up at the north. He had probably already returned to the battlefield. That fleeting glimpse of Qingqiu Mountain was nothing but an illusion.
“Sever all worldly ties; everything is but a dream. If you trust me, drinking this medicine is the best course of action,” he said solemnly.
Twenty short years—indeed, it was just a dream.
I tilted my head back and drank it down. The medicine was indeed sweet and smooth, with the fragrance of tea.
"Take a nap, you'll feel better when you wake up."
I gently closed my eyes, and saw only Jimo, a solitary figure standing alone in the dim light. His broad back carried a vast sorrow. This was our last meeting; I couldn't see his features, nothing at all, only the black of his clothes slowly merging into the night.
Before my eyes, there was only pure blackness.
I am in complete darkness, waiting for the light to arrive.
I've lived in pure darkness for sixteen years, yet now I feel out of place. Perhaps it's because I've lived in the sunlight of Jimo for too long, becoming accustomed to that temperature and those colors. The indescribable warmth of white illuminates everything.
In my final moments, I will remember the ray of light he left in my life when I was seven years old, which illuminated my last four years.
Raise your hand to touch and trace the sunlight.
In a daze, a beam of light illuminated my fingertips. Pale, but no longer deathly pale.
I opened my eyes wide, and that tiny beam of light spread out from my fingertips, gradually enveloping my arms, upper body, legs, and toes.
I looked up and saw a woman with skin as white as snow, long hair like a waterfall, and eyes like stars.
I suddenly recalled the "son of the neighbor in the east" from Deng Tu Zi's Ode to Lust: adding an inch would make him too tall, subtracting an inch would make him too short; applying powder would make him too white, applying rouge would make him too red; his eyebrows were like kingfisher feathers, his skin like white snow; his waist was like a bound silk ribbon, his teeth like pearls; with a charming smile, he could bewitch Yangcheng and bewitch Xiachai.
She was a woman as beautiful as a fairy.
I thought the woman I saw in the palace on Qingqiu Mountain was full of ethereal beauty, but compared to the woman before me, she was far inferior.
Suddenly, a flash of light appeared, and the woman vanished in an instant. Fu Xi's smiling face came into view. He closed the bronze mirror and offered me a hand. His slender hand had a thin layer of calluses on the tips of three fingers, the result of thousands of years of writing and painting.
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