Silver Fox
The first demand of a human being is simply to live; the second demand is still to live; the third, again, is to live... In certain circumstances, survival itself becomes a luxury. In hell, we gaze up toward paradise, reaching out with our hands—though we cannot touch heaven, we draw a little nearer to it. We sing in the depths of hell, give thanks amid torment, love and hate one another, shedding tears as we huddle together, only to drive daggers into each other’s hearts—not for any reason but for a fleeting, intangible sense of gratitude. The world of Great Song is both my shackle and my sky; only a bird that has taken wing can truly understand what the sky means. The emperor says, "Let me lend you a corner of the imperial halls, so that you and your mother might find shelter." Tie Xinyuan replies, "For a single drop of kindness, I shall repay with a gushing spring. Yet you may not dictate the form my gratitude takes—you must accept whatever recompense I choose to give." Perhaps I am more clever than any of you. In a sense, I am a prophet, a philosopher, a god.
Silver Fox
The Gobi Desert, freshly washed by a rain, was so clean it could intoxicate the soul.
Never mind the poplars, whose leaves had turned yellow in the daylight; even the clusters of camel thorns were so lush and green that they stirred a touch of warmth in the heart.
Doing nothing, lying lazily atop the sun-warmed stones, simply watching the sun set beyond the horizon—mist seemed to rise there, finally devouring the red orb entirely, and another day was squandered in vain.
A stubborn star, always appearing next to the sun by day, now shone even more brilliantly as the sun dipped below the earth. Before the moon emerged, it was the most powerful presence in the sky.
But night would inevitably cloak the land, and then legions of stars spilled forth, densely carpeting the heavens and winking triumphantly at all who looked up. That brightest star, not long after sunset, would slip out of sight with the earth’s rotation—a star rising and setting with the sun, its greatest sorrow.
There are many kinds of suns. Some formidable beings, though not called suns, have a presence much like one: when they begin to shine, all others must fall silent.
There are many ways to silence others. For instance, being thrown onto the Gobi, drugged and helpless, is one such method.
There was little to complain about; the truth that the victor is king and the loser is outlawed had been clear for a long time.
It was just that those people acted rather hastily… It was only after many years that he realized his life had contained more obscurity than joy. E
