"I almost misunderstood Du Dafu. I thought his love poems were off-topic, but they weren't."
"His love poems are much grander; they are not just love poems, but incorporate something very sophisticated."
"Indeed, it's related to the fate of the nation. I wonder what the story will unfold. The emperor, indulging in beautiful women, neglected state affairs, leading to a rebellion. What will be the final outcome?!"
"Will this country be betrayed and overthrown? What will become of the emperor and his concubine?"
"I don't know, but we'll find out if we keep listening."
"I hope this one won't be as tragic as 'Untitled.' And I hope Yang Guifei will have a happy ending."
"good……"
"..."
A series of sounds rang out.
Ye Xiaofan and the Third Prince Long Jingtian's expressions immediately turned ugly.
Originally, they thought Du Dafu was running out of talent.
The story told also doesn't fit the theme.
But it doesn't seem so.
It fits perfectly, and it's presented in a very sophisticated way.
It's even more sophisticated than "Untitled".
Thinking of this, their faces grew even more somber, but they listened even more intently, hoping to find a flaw in his argument so they could later belittle him.
Behind the beaded curtain, Queen Lin Shiyu's heart was also on edge.
Because she is the Empress's sister, she has a greater sense of empathy for matters of royalty.
Listening to Gu Jian's poems, she couldn't help but immerse herself in the heroine's world.
In that instant, she was Yang Guifei.
She was also eager to know what had happened to the country after the rebellion.
Will Yang Guifei die?
Lin Shiyu's heart was in her throat.
The next moment, as Gu Jian spoke, the poem was recited again.
"Smoke and dust rise from the nine-layered city gates, and thousands of chariots and horses head southwest."
The imperial carriage swayed as it walked and stopped, traveling more than a hundred li west of the capital.
With the six armies refusing to advance, there was nothing they could do; the beautiful concubine died before the horse!
What?!
Hearing this, everyone present was shocked.
Queen Lin Shiyu screamed in surprise.
Because, in just six lines of poetry, the story is about the death of Yang Guifei.
And its story is—
A war broke out in Chang'an, and the emperor fled southwest with his ministers and concubines.
The emperor's ceremonial procession made several stops along the way, eventually reaching Mawei Slope, more than a hundred li from Chang'an.
The Imperial Guards, dissatisfied with the abuse of power by Yang Guifei's cousin, launched a mutiny, killed him, and then demanded that the emperor order Yang Guifei's execution.
This was because everyone believed that Yang Guifei was the root of all trouble and hoped that the emperor would hunt her down to appease the people.
Ultimately, Yang Guifei was forced to commit suicide!
"Did Du Dafu really do this? He actually let Yang Guifei die."
"It wasn't Du Dafu who ordered Yang Guifei's death, it was the Imperial Guards. They thought she was the root of all evil!"
"How could a mere woman be the source of all evil? How could this be? It's so unfair."
“I also think it’s unfair, but don’t interrupt. I think the story gets interesting from this moment on.”
"I think so too, but it's too sad."
"Is Du Dafu going to make us cry again?"
"Whether or not it will make us cry, I feel that this poem is going to surpass 'Untitled'..."
"I feel the same way."
"Du Dafu, please continue. I've prepared some tissues..."
A series of sounds rang out.
Lin Shiyu opened her eyes wide, her face showing pain.
After a moment, the poetry gathering hall fell silent.
At this moment, Gu Jian looked melancholy, and the poems from "The Song of Everlasting Regret" resounded once again.
"The flower hairpins lay scattered on the ground, uncollected; the jade hairpins and golden sparrow ornaments adorned the head."
The king covered his face, unable to save her; looking back, he saw blood and tears flowing together.
Yellow dust scatters in the desolate wind, and winding cloud-covered paths lead up to Jianmen Pass.
Few people walk at the foot of Mount Emei; banners are dim and the sunlight is faint.
The Shu River flows clear and the Shu Mountains are verdant; the Holy Lord's affection is felt day and night.
The moon seen from the imperial palace is a sorrowful sight; the sound of bells in the night rain is heart-wrenching.
The world spins and the dragon returns, but here it hesitates and cannot leave.
Beneath the slope of Mawei, in the mud, her beautiful face is nowhere to be seen, only the empty place of her death remains.
The emperor and his ministers looked at each other, their clothes soaked with tears, and rode their horses eastward towards the capital.
Returning, the ponds and gardens remain unchanged; the lotus blossoms of Taiye Lake and the willows of Weiyang Palace stand as before.
Her face is as beautiful as a lotus, her eyebrows as delicate as willow leaves; how can one not weep at such a sight?
Spring breezes bring peach and plum blossoms, autumn rains bring falling leaves of the paulownia tree.
Autumn grasses grow abundantly in the western and southern palaces, and fallen leaves cover the steps, their red color unswept away.
The disciples of the Pear Garden have grown new white hair, while the palace maids and eunuchs have aged.
Fireflies flit quietly in the evening palace, thoughts drifting aimlessly; the lonely lamp burns low, yet sleep eludes me.
The slow tolling of bells and drums heralds the start of the long night, while the bright Milky Way heralds the approaching dawn.
The mandarin duck tiles are cold with heavy frost; the jade quilt is cold, who shares it with me?
Years have passed since our parting in life and death, yet her spirit has never come to visit me in dreams.
This story tells of how, after Yang Guifei's death, her headdress was left on the ground, unattended, and Emperor Xuanzong of Tang, unable to save her, covered his face and wept.
...
The rebellion was subsequently quelled.
But Emperor Xuanzong never saw Yang Guifei again.
He would think of the day she died for him every day.
He too was lovesick, longing for his beloved every night.
However, she never appeared in his dreams; she had completely left him.
Upon hearing this, everyone at the poetry gathering was immediately saddened and heartbroken.
Moreover, they sympathized with Yang Guifei more than with the emperor.
She was merely his concubine.
However, she was considered the source of evil and unjustly accused.
The turmoil of a country is being blamed on a single woman.
Lin Shiyu bit her red lips, tears already falling down her cheeks.
At this moment, she felt as if she had truly entered into the world of Yang Guifei's unparalleled beauty.
She did nothing wrong, yet she had to die like that.
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