📖 Wolf's Lament

(clumsy handwriting) My name, Ah-Yin. My pipa, silver. His name, Jiang Cong. The sound of river water, pleasant. He is from Song. I am from Liao. (crossed out words) Song and Liao, are enemies. He is my, beloved.

(in elegant handwriting) A hurried decade, nothing but the craft of armor-making. The red banners of war have become tiresome. It was only when I unexpectedly brushed past her by the Sanggan River that I realized, no matter how beautiful the frontier clouds and the moon, or how unforgettable the misty willows of Jiangnan, they pale in comparison to the slight smile of the one in my heart. What do the separations of homeland and foreign lands mean to me? If I could return to the countryside and spend a lifetime there, my heart would have no regrets. I leave these rambling words at Jingbian Temple, wondering if Lord Wu'an above finds me laughable?

(clumsy handwriting) The clothes of the Song people are more troublesome than the northern robes. We live in Wu'an Village, herding cattle and sheep every day, and we go up the mountain. Today, Jiang Cong taught me a poem. (altered handwriting) Silver bottle suddenly breaks, water and wine burst forth. Only the autumn moon in the river's heart remains moon white. A poem about the pipa. Inside are my name and his.

(elegant handwriting) Fifth day. Encountered a Wolf Pup at Stonestride Shore, with wounds on its belly, back, and paws. Sand and dust aggravated the injuries, making healing difficult. Ah-Yin and I gathered herbs for three days and finally found a good remedy. Thankfully. Ninth day. The Wolf Pup's wounds are healing, and it can now stand and walk. Seventeenth day. The desert is hot by day and cold by night, with yellow sand filling the sky, and Toxic Insects causing trouble. Forged a wolf armor for the Wolf Pup. Twenty-third day. On a bright moonlit night, we went to Moon Bay to enjoy the cool breeze, taking the Wolf Pup along. Ah-Yin played the Zither under the moon, with the Wolf Pup lying at her feet. An unforgettable scene.

(hastily scribbled handwriting) Ah-Cong, soldiers from the main camp are investigating, and some villagers already know I'm a musician from the Liao Camp. I'm heading beyond the pass to avoid implicating you. Don't worry about me.

(sloppy handwriting) The Liao Troop has discovered the whereabouts of Ah-Yin and me, pressing us step by step. Mogui City is rugged and difficult to traverse, perhaps it can conceal us for a while. At this moment, the moon shines bright over Yanmen Stronghold, serene and beautiful, yet it seems hopeless to see tomorrow. The Wind carries the sound of the Wolf Howl, hoping in the next life to reunite with old friends on Stonestride Shore.

(blurry handwriting) Jiang Cong said he doesn't need a tomb to be remembered. Shifting sands, the moon, they can remember him. Or perhaps, only the little wolf and I will remember him. So the little wolf has tears too. Is it because the sound of the pipa is too sorrowful? Or is it, like me, simply missing him too much?