【Conquest Overture】(V) The Cycle of the Great Dao

(V) The Cycle of the Great Way Sorrow 　　is hushed into
peace in my heart, like the evening among the silent trees. 　　 A fierce storm swept by, yet the greatest sound is silent, finally leaving only a single drop of water on the tip of a bamboo leaf. 　　 There is no one, no sound; the clamor and troubles of the mortal world seem completely shut out of the bamboo grove. Although 　　the wind still blows, rustling the bamboo leaves, it only adds to the desolation of the silence. 　　The fallen leaves have grown densely again, the bamboo grove so vast and green that even sunlight cannot penetrate. 　　 Suddenly, a flash of lightning streaks across, scattering fallen leaves. 　　 The sky is a clear, deep blue; how could there be lightning in a desolate bamboo grove? 　　 This light is merely the flash of a sword. 　　 The sword light flashed like a rainbow, striking the leaves with a chilling aura, sending them falling one by one, only to be 　　shredded by the sword light in an instant. 　　 A pale blue figure moved through the forest, leaving only red bamboo in its wake. 　　 The wind rose again, and the sky was filled with fallen leaves, a vast, overwhelming mass, like a sandstorm, or perhaps like ocean waves 　　. Few in this world would associate sandstorms and ocean waves. The ocean is vibrant, magnificent 　　, and beautiful, full of the rhythm and vitality of life, stirring the heart and igniting passion. Many people love 　　the ocean as much as they love life itself. 　　 And the desert? No one likes the desert; it seems synonymous with death, and no 　　one who has been there wants to return. 　　 But if one truly understands both the ocean and the desert, one will discover that these two seemingly disparate 　　places actually share many similarities. 　　 They are both equally ruthless, both capable of making humanity feel the insignificance and humility of life, and both filled with 　　changes that are utterly unbearable for humankind. In this transformation, human life instantly becomes as 　　fragile as an eggshell under a hammer. 　　 So, what about those caught in the waves? Will they be mercilessly crushed, or reborn through tempering? 　　 Bai Haoming picked up a broken leaf, held it to his eyes, and looked at the sun: "When the beautiful leaves have all fallen, 　　the veins of life become clearly visible." 　　 "Stop being so sour, do you think I don't know Neruda?" The old man sat cross-legged, 　　poured a bowl of wine from the pot—golden and emerald green, with a clear and mellow aroma—the finest Zhuyeqing. 　　 "Old man, aren't you afraid of drinking yourself to death?" 　　 "Hehe, this old man isn't so easily killed. If I'm going to die, I'll drink my fill." Saying this, he 　　downed the wine in one gulp. "What a pity, good wine can't be drunk often. This time, I'm afraid I'll have to suppress this craving for a 　　while again." 　　 "Old man, tell me, am I gambling?" 　　 "Gambling? No, no, no, even your shrewd mind has gone mad. You've never done anything like surrendering yourself to fate, that bullshit 　　." The old man poured another bowl of wine, brought it to his nose, and sniffed it hard. 　　"Trapped in a desperate situation, fighting with your back to the wall, that's gambling." " 　　 Trapped in a desperate situation, fighting with your back to the wall..." Bai Haoming murmured repeatedly. "They say the darkest 　　hour of the day is also the closest to the light. Life is the same. If you can get through this difficult, dark time 　　, your life will immediately be filled with light and hope. But, isn't the shadow of darkness always before your eyes 　　, lingering and impossible to shake off?" 　　 "Destiny is created by oneself, appearance is born from the heart. All things in the world are manifestations; if the heart is unmoved, all things are unmoved; if the heart is unchanged, 　　all things are unchanged." The old man sipped his wine casually. "No matter how deep the sorrow and pain, it will 　　fade with time. Forgetting is one of the instincts that allows humans to survive." 　　 "Forget? Perhaps I'll forget when I'm as old as you." 　　 "If you want to forget, how can you not? Drinking the Meng Po soup will make you forget everything, won't it?" 　　 "And after forgetting, how can you remember again?" 　　 "You'll remember when it's time to remember. Otherwise, why did you set this up?" 　　 "Old man." 　　 "Hmm?" 　　 "You weren't a monk before, were you?" 　　 "Pfft…how so?" 　　 "Talking to you is like a game of witty banter." 　　 "…" 　　 "Old man, tell me, if I die, will anyone miss me?" 　　 "Are you talking about me? Hahaha... Maybe I'll keep waiting for you to drink and eat porridge, waiting and waiting... 　　until I die of old age." 　　 "Haha, time flies, fleeting in an instant. To have a true friend is enough to die without regret. What joy is there in life, what fear is there in death? 　　To have a true friend is enough to die without regret." 　　 "Knowing that there is someone in this world who understands your sorrow and suffering is a 　　good thing for anyone. Everyone says you are the most perfect, the happiest, the most enviable person in the world, but who knows 　　your pain? Everyone says you are the most composed, the most calm, but who knows that you once lost yourself? Everyone 　　wants to live your life, but who knows that you once lived for others?" 　　 "..." 　　 "Then, will you be lonely? Perhaps there is nothing more unbearable than loneliness in the world." 　　 "Yes, without an audience, whether you're talking, singing, drinking, or even cursing, it's all exhausting and 　　boring. If you've experienced many things, you suddenly realize that everything is in the past; if you've gained 　　many things, you suddenly realize that it was all for naught; when the night is deep and quiet, and you're all alone, only 　　then will you understand. But that's not loneliness. That feeling is like 'contemplating the vastness of heaven and earth, feeling alone 　　and sorrowful, tears streaming down one's face,' it's simply beauty. A beauty that is breathtaking, a beauty that moves the heart. If a person has never had 　　this feeling, then their life is truly lonely." 　　 "Flowers unworn, wine unoffered, drunkenness unattended." Bai Haoming rubbed the nearly ruined leaves in his hand, 　　his expression serene. "What's wrong with loneliness? Only the living feel loneliness, only the living have this..."

"That feeling always chills you to the bone, but it's better than feeling nothing at all." He casually
crumpled the leaf into a ball, placed it on his fingernail, bent his finger and pressed it against the pad of his thumb, then flicked it out with a little force
.
"Old man, what kind of person was the one who left that wound on you?"
"Him..." The old man squinted, looking towards the sun. Without the leaf's shade, the sunlight poured down,
illuminating every wrinkle on his face and his somewhat dirty white clothes with perfect clarity. "That person thought that
black was a very strong power. In the realm of black, one could never imagine how deep it truly was, or
where its end lay. Therefore, the true power contained within black was immeasurable and unfathomable. However, I
disagree. I believe white is the strongest. Because in the realm of white, you can freely
imagine and shape in a blank space, unlike the solid and rigid nature of black. You can add all sorts of vibrant colors to white, even
black, and the power of black itself. Therefore, white encompasses black, embracing everything in the world, and all thoughts
." He finished the last bowl of wine, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and laughed, "Then they started fighting, like children
. Sometimes, encounters between people are like shooting stars; even a fleeting meeting can spark
... " Sparks fly. Though sparks may fade, the sudden impact and shock they create are unforgettable
, sometimes even etched into one's memory for a lifetime. But only with flames burning can there be light.
How tragic, how beautiful, is this burning process! The brilliance of the sparks, the pulsation of muscles, the rhythm of life—is this not
the perfect state of being? How could someone who knows how to enjoy life miss the opportunity to appreciate beauty? If
you see a flower wither in your hand, you can't help but feel regret, even an indescribable
melancholy. Even if you're not a sentimental person, you can't help but sigh. Why is beautiful life
always so short? No matter how strong a person is, life is so fragile. Then, isn't life itself
a tragedy?
"Show-off," Bai Haoming said, chuckling as he stood up. "By the way, old man, have you ever loved anyone?"
"Want to know? I'll tell you next time I invite you for a drink."
"Okay, I'll come to drink with you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" the old man asked, surprised.
"The sun rises every morning, so what's the agreement for today? Let's just reschedule for tomorrow. And what's the agreement for tomorrow? Let's
reschedule for the day after tomorrow," Bai Haoming said seriously, his face stern.
The old man paused, threw down the bowl in his hand, and shouted, "Show-off!"
In the spacious office, a handsome young man stood somewhat awkwardly before an old man.
"Father, I've done everything you asked me to do."
"Did you pay attention to the things I told you to be careful about?"
"Yes, I did." The young man was clearly impatient.
"Zheng Lin, Zheng Lin, you need to know who we're dealing with this time. You must be extremely careful. No
matter how long a tiger sleeps, it will still eat people."
The young man called Zheng Lin opened his mouth, but swallowed his words. He didn't want to get a scolding.
"Sigh, go back now. Don't just think about playing with women all day long. Do some serious work."
Zhang Zheng Lin felt like he had been granted a pardon and quickly left the office, taking the elevator to the underground parking lot. He made several
phone calls on the way, but no one answered. "Damn it, that bitch, she won't answer my calls again. I'll teach her a lesson next time."
He thought for a moment, then dialed another number.
"Mom, where are you?"
"Don't even mention it, I just left Dad's."
"I'm coming right now."
He slammed on the gas and sped away.
Bai Haoming walked with the crowd, unexpectedly arriving at that building again.
"Everything has an end. The longer and more complicated something is, the more suddenly it ends. Because
its development had already reached its end, but others didn't see it. You may think it's sudden, but it's not
. This game of chess is getting more and more chaotic. What if I go straight for your 'king'? What if I sweep the board cleanly?"
He looked up, a smile playing on his lips, yet it sent a chill down one's spine.
A passerby suddenly shivered, shrugged, tightened his coat, and hurried on.
"Autumn is almost over."
He asked Buddha: Why does it always snow when I'm sad? Buddha said: Winter is about to pass, leave some memories.
A question was asked of Buddha: Why does it always snow on nights I don't pay attention to? Buddha replied: People often
miss true beauty when they're not paying attention.
The questioner then asked Buddha: Will it snow again in a few days? Buddha said: Don't just focus on this season and miss out on this winter.
(To be continued)

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【Conquest Overture】(V) The Cycle of the Great Dao

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