Expectations in the mortal world are like the past, unfolding into sorrowful poems, layer upon layer. But who can truly understand the heart of a flower blooming and withering? Sorrowful music awakened ancient, millennia-old, withered branches. A gentle breeze, a setting sun, a street where the music flows – who brings a whiff of flower fragrance, strolling leisurely through the bustling world? Looking back, the flow of time is like water, already a thousand years of wind and rain, a thousand autumns. You, are you still waiting at the crossroads where you came from? The mortal world is but a dream, a fleeting intoxication, a night's dream filled with dust.

A strand of affection, a moment of parting sorrow, entangled with so many mundane affairs. Who doesn't weary from the burdens of the mortal world? How many don't find themselves thin and desolate within it? Come and go, dreams of the mortal world; joys and sorrows, tears of the mortal world. Asking about the fleeting dreams of the wind, inquiring about the feelings of the bright moon—they only say, 'Let us simply observe the fading crimson return.' A red tassel guide evokes so many tears of the mortal world. Rain sprinkles through the dust.

Time has aged the youthful heart, and years have scattered the youthful infatuation. The fireflies in the heart's wilderness have dimmed, shrouding the night of the world. The superficial dreams blush shyly before the fingertips. Flowers fall in an idle pond, the wind, a vibrant splash of color, the sound of the guzheng, quietly descends along the balcony, immersing the spirit in a ghostly beauty, a tragic love washed away all the gaudy makeup, with a wind-swept headdress and mist-veiled temples, dancing a broken tenderness. Turning back, the heavy makeup has faded from sleep-filled eyes.

Clutching a cloak of sorrow, reminiscing about the fallen petals on the windowsill. Holding a brush stained with the memories of a past life, writing a fading crimson. Looking across the autumn waters, watching the fireworks dissipate, listening to a long song of longing, my lord, have you heard it? I've walked this way, only to meet you, laughing joyously at the three thousand scenes. A heartfelt encounter, a destiny of connection, arising in this lifetime.

The affections we cling to remain unchanged through the shifting tides of time? Once upon a time, we were side by side, never parting. Even with fragrant red seals and fine ink, it's impossible to paint the flowers of the other shore. They bloom, each a fiery sun. The other shore is you, the only haven to reach, the only ferry. Searching for your voice, I've wandered through the ancient mortal world, seeking you little by little. Do you remember, on the bridge of Mother Mortals, a poignant farewell, a promise of reincarnation, carrying the memories of a past life, accompanying me to play a high mountain and flowing water melody.

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