This was spring, once upon a time.

A radiant metropolis across the sea.

A city of perpetual motions,

where dreams never seem to fade,

the heart of an empire.

Against the vernal breeze,

a warm welcome I could not resist.

From you, a leader with a noble hope.

To me, a mere weaver of verses with a dead muse.

A chance meeting it was not,

but perhaps fated all the same.

Because my heart was astir

like the waves breaking against the harbor walls.

Under the shadow of the great bronze lady,

you smiled as if greeting an old friend.

Was the radiance the sun's mirage? I asked myself.

Yet the shine of your eyes soon burned through my doubts.

A hand you extended, the first of so many.

A leap of faith I took for one last time.

My pen danced and sang again alongside the passing days.

Starting with your name, in strokes bold and true, as it should be.

Then your tale immortalized upon these pages of my heart.

Through the din and quiet of the everyday, there you are,

Steady and tall, falling and rising.

Cheer, lament, or even silence,

you are always there.

Like an oak that bears the tempest.

Who would have known mine would be woven alongside yours?

But maybe I did know all along and only denied myself that truth.

For I should've known the signs better than anyone else.

From the heartbeat drumming louder and louder in my chest.

From the breath caught in my throat and the words that would never leave my lips.

The tingle when our hands touch by chance.

The gaze that would linger for far too long.

The bitterness of parting, however short it may be.

The joy at every meeting, like a spring that would never run dry.

I thought it would pass, like migratory birds to distant lands,

fleeting and transient, as if they had never existed.

But serendipity knows no bounds in how she plays out.


This was summer, once upon a time.

From all corners of the world came those who were like me.

Beings to whom fate had been unkind,

those whose histories were tied to the ocean and conflicts that had been waged and ended on its surface.

Former enemies and long-time friends.

Old rivals and new acquaintances.

Upon these shores, they stood united by a common purpose.

To write the last page of their story or the beginning of the next.

Whatever it would be, it would be theirs to craft,

with ink that would wash away all the blood, sweat, and tears of the past.

They all came with the belief that a new path was being opened.

You were only one of many who forged this path, but you were the only one I saw.

Because mine feelings have remained unchanged like the Kūnlún, old and grey.

And like the Chángbái, ever steadfast.

Yet, must they languish in the dark?

Like the Forbidden City, shrouded behind imperious walls.

Hidden among the clouds like the apsaras in the western heavens.

Inscribed but not read?

For I fear of weighing you down, tying you down.

The aching longing I could not put into spoken words,

but I could bear it still,

just like the willows of the West Lake.

Let this dream within a dream live,

even if the two rivers would never converge.

I do not wish to be a burden.

To someone who is beloved and cherished by so many,

I do not want to make you suffer,

So I shall not.

For I have come to accept that.

I will be content,

like a lone pine on a hilltop.

Even if I could not share a life with you,

I will always remember.


This was a dance, once upon a time.

In an age of steel and iron.

In the grand city that knows no slumber.

At a ball of silk and lace.

Lit by chandeliers and candelabras.

To a waltz of strings and flutes.

With a gentle sway.

A hand reaching out

for mine.

On tenterhooks, on the precipice of a moment,

my mind raced, yet was blank at the same time.

Why did I hesitate?

Why did you hesitate?

In the end, neither of us did.

An apology you offered, and I realized that perhaps,

perhaps I have not been the only one holding back,

afraid to cross that line.

It was only then that I realized that I had never truly seen the whole of you.

For maybe I have failed to notice the softness in your gaze,

that only I would receive.

The slight tremble in your voice whenever you speak my name.

How you always manage to find me no matter where I went.

That I would always be the first to know.

How I never knew the extent of your thoughts for me.

Because I thought I would never have a place in your heart.

Now, you reaching out to pull me from within the shadows,

makes more sense than anything else.

Even if the winds of war would one day take you from me,

and take me from you,

knowing more about you is worth more than a thousand tomes.

I want to know.

I need to know.

This but naught a fleeting moment,

but it has happened,

and we shall never be the same again.


This was fall, once upon a time.

Chinatown on a cold, cold night.

Rainbow lights and red lanterns.

Dancing fireflies are like stars,

going up, up, and ever up.

Chrysanthemums, osmanthuses, cotton roses.

Under the lights, their fragrance lingers,

like a sweet memory of the eastern home a thousand li away.

Some are happy, some are sad.

A girl laughs, a young couple holds hands,

while a drunkard stumbles into a trash can.

Stories not sung, stories not told.

Of theirs,

and of you and me.

Seasons ago, I did not even know your name.

Seasons from now, I do not know where we will be.

You have always been the leader, yet even you have no answer.

But that is fine.

Shall we just take another walk tonight,

and see how it goes?

Like the Zhūjiāng as it gushes,

Like the Hēilóngjiāng as it streams,

Shall we follow the current?

Like the Chángjiāng as it flows,

Like the Huánghé as it surges,

Shall we see where it takes us?

Whether we will be happy or whether we will be sorrowful,

that is for time to tell.

But we are here tonight,

so let us savor every moment.

Maybe we can be like the dragon and the fènghuáng

as they soar through the sky.

Or we can just be like the mandarin ducks,

as they drift together on the waters,

through the seasons and years.

Then maybe, we could

live happily ever after.

Is this not a story worth remembering?