Peach Blossom Pavilion

I was performing my ritual of sipping tea, shooting flirtatious glances and planning murder

As a child I had loved the legend of the cowherd and the spinning girl. They were so in love that they neglected their work and so the God of Heaven placed them in the sky as constellations, separated by the Silver River of Heaven—the Milky Way. Once a year, on the seventh evening of the seventh month, a flock of magpies, taking pity on the lovesick couple, fly to the sky and form a bridge so that they can meet. On this night all over China, women make offerings to these stars, hoping for love.

Therefore, when Ziqi died, Boya, realizing that no one else would understand his music as well as his friend, smashed his qin at Ziqi’s grave and sighed, “Why play the qin when there’s no more zhiyin to understand my music!” From then on, the term zhiyin had been used to describe soul mates. “Precious Orchid,” Qing Zhen looked at me intently while a solitary bird soared behind him in the vast sky, “you realize how lucky we are? Most people search all their life for a zhiyin but never find one. We’re not only lovers; we’re also zhiyin.” Though I was used to compliments from men and usually did not take them seriously, this one from Qing Zhen touched a silk string in my heart.

Kartą mokydamas, kaip tapyti lotosą mano tapybos mokytojas ponas Vu aiškino: Ši graži gėlė auga iš nešvarumų. Mes sakome: "išaugęs iš purvo, bet nesusitepęs", taip ir kai kurie žmonės gyvena blogio apsuptyje, bet išlieka dori.

Atmink viena: likimo mes negalim įveikti, bet galim jam nesipriešinti ir gauti iš to visa, kas įmanoma.