In the Mountains
In Jing Stream, white stones emerge，
The weather grows cold, red leaves grow sparse.
A poem for todayWang Wei《In the Mountains》
In Jing Stream, white stones emerge，
The weather grows cold, red leaves grow sparse.
Tang dynasty Wang WeiMake time for words, sounds and landscapes you love.Wander through stories
Read something you love, right now
Wander through poetry
Read a story已完结 / 42 chapters
A Go Board in the Night Rain
Shen Jianwei returns to Linpu to close the Go club her father has run for twenty-seven years. On a night of plum-season rain, her old friend Liang Xu, with whom she has not had a long conversation in years, fails to arrive as agreed; instead, her recorder captures an elderly man borrowing an umbrella. During the ninety-day relocation period, an old house about to disappear brings together people who left home, a boy without talent, a recording engineer who cannot hear clearly, and a Go player unwilling to admit to growing old. They must decide what to keep, and learn to let others leave.
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Five Later Poems on Going Beyond the Frontier
A man born into this world should win a marquisate in his prime.War offers deeds of merit; how could I remain in my old homeland?
Autumn Thoughts
Cool leaves rustle with the scattered sound of rain; cold whispers fill the empty hall, veiled in frostlike clarity.Yellow chrysanthemums keep their own appointment with the west wind; white hair first appears upon the traveler far from home.
A Farewell Banquet for My Uncle Yun, the Collator, at Xie Tiao Tower in Xuanzhou
What abandons me and goes—the day of yesterday—cannot be held.What troubles my heart，is this day’s abundance of worries.
After the Upheaval and Separation, Exiled to Yelang by Imperial Grace: Recalling Former Travels and Expressing My Feelings, Presented to Wei Liangzai, Prefect of Jiangxia
In heaven stands the White Jade Capital, with twelve towers and five cities. Immortals stroke the crown of my head; with my hair bound, I receive everlasting life.Mistakenly I pursued the world's pleasures, yet deeply explored the workings of order and disorder. Ninety-six sage rulers—empty names hung like floating clouds.
Autumn Thoughts
节物岂不好，秋怀何黯然！— Are the season's sights not lovely? Why is my autumn heart so dark!West wind through a market of wine flags; fine rain in the season of chrysanthemums.
In Praise of Jing Ke
Prince Dan of Yan excelled at nurturing worthy men, resolved to avenge himself upon the mighty house of Ying.He gathered a hundred worthy men, and toward year's end found Master Jing.
Song of the North Wind
烛龙栖寒门，光曜犹旦开。— The Torch Dragon dwells at the Gate of Cold; its radiance still opens like the dawn.Why do the sun and moon fail to shine here，where only the north wind comes raging down from heaven。
Waiting for a Guest
When the yellow plums ripen, rain falls on every home,青草池塘处处蛙。— Around the grassy pond, frogs call everywhere.
In the Mountains
In Jing Stream, white stones emerge，The weather grows cold, red leaves grow sparse.
To the Tune “Niannujiao” · Spring Feelings
A desolate courtyard, slanting wind and fine rain again, the successive gates must be closed. Cherished willows and delicate flowers, Cold Food Festival draws near, all manner of vexing weather. A poem in difficult rhymes is finished, I wake from head-heavy wine, a different flavor of idle solitude. The migrating geese have all passed, my countless thoughts have no messenger.Upstairs, days of spring cold, curtains hanging on all four sides, too listless to lean against the jade railing. Quilt cold, incense faded, newly awake from dreams, the sorrowing one cannot stay abed. Clear dew flows at dawn, new parasol trees begin to bud, how much longing to roam in spring. When the sun is high and the haze has cleared, I shall look again to see whether today is fair.
Writing of What I Saw at Night
萧萧梧叶送寒声，— Rustling parasol-tree leaves carry the sound of cold,The autumn wind upon the river stirs a traveler's feelings.
Lang Tao Sha · Seeking Wine from Wu Jianshan on the Double Ninth
Distant mountains stretch like long, green brows. The heights are desolate. The chrysanthemums are delicate and slender as Du Qiuniang. I wash the green cup clean, drawing water from the dew-damp well, and offer for now their secluded fragrance.A black hat presses down on frost-white hair. The wind blows fiercely. The year's fine festival passes in the western chamber. How much sorrow lies in autumn colors and the cries of geese—all gathered in the slanting sun.
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Story shelf
All fictionA Go Board in the Night Rain
Shen Jianwei returns to Linpu to close the Go club her father has run for twenty-seven years. On a night of plum-season rain, her old friend Liang Xu, with whom she has not had a long conversation in years, fails to arrive as agreed; instead, her recorder captures an elderly man borrowing an umbrella. During the ninety-day relocation period, an old house about to disappear brings together people who left home, a boy without talent, a recording engineer who cannot hear clearly, and a Go player unwilling to admit to growing old. They must decide what to keep, and learn to let others leave.
Open this bookGreen Mist Tints My Robes
Gu Qinghe makes her living copying designs. To pay for food and lodging at an inn, she paints a screen of red leaves, yet on Cold Mountain she finds white stone and lush green. Drawing a route for a stranger entangles her in damaged goods, an exclusive master pattern, and an old bridge awaiting repair. Traveling between the mountain town and the city, she weighs wages, personal obligations, and her art, learning to take responsibility for what she paints—and what she fails to paint.
Open this bookA Lamp by the Fence, Sent Afar
Shen Heng, who earns his living copying books beside the river, keeps postponing his return home. One autumn night, two children beside the hedge damage a paper lantern and come seeking his skill; if he stops writing to repair it, he will receive less pay when he delivers his manuscript tomorrow morning. When the lantern shines again, he finally finishes the letter home he has never dared to send.
Open this bookThe Rain-Watching Tower
After years of calling bids for an antiques association, Lu Qing finally saves enough to buy an old chair from a mountain temple. He carries it upstairs at Rainwatch Tower, hoping to make his first major deal for himself. With every compliment from a guest, the chair legs sink a little deeper into the floorboards. He tries to rise, but the armrests tighten around him. Rainwater has flooded the lane below, while those at the table keep discussing the chair’s great value. First, he must make the smiling guests hear that he truly cannot get up.
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