Yangxin stared blankly, lost in a daze.
Is he even human?
Of course he is.
He just happens to be a eunuch.
She was deeply immersed in the imagery of the poem, unable to pull herself away. She savored every word, pondering it again and again. The opening, "Sorrow for the heights, yearning for the distance," goes straight to the heart of the theme. Climbing high to gaze into the distance is enough to wither the spirit. It is the most common method poets and scholars use to express their melancholy. When a man of letters climbs high, he is inevitably stained with sorrow. Whether a frustrated scholar is indulging in nostalgia for the ancients or venting the frustration in his chest, he must let it out.
Of course, what she didn't know was that later on, this fellow would quote Chen Zi'ang’s famous lines—"Before me, I see no ancients; after me, no coming generations; thinking of the vastness of heaven and earth, I break into tears alone"—when he was with her, but that is a story for another time. In short, climbing high to express melancholy had almost become a "poetic law."
A woman as well-read as her certainly knew this. A beauty in her boudoir, climbing a high tower in the spring, lamenting "when will it end?"—it seems like a question, but in reality, it means the "sorrow for the heights and yearning for the distance" are "without end." And nothing makes the heart feel heavier or more burdened than that which is "most intense in sentiment." The sorrow of parting is already end…
Chapter 33