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month record rogue 5 4 2
By the Xuyu Pavilion, a creek has been harnessed into a meandering stream. The young talents of the day gather by it, drinking until drunk while exuberantly reciting poetry to one another. These gatherings inevitably devolve into farces of flattery. The poet is uninterested, sitting on her lonesome under an old tree as she appreciates the waterscape, several jugs of wine by her side. She drinks cup after cup, yet never seems to get drunk. After yet another empty jug, she has lost interest. Just as she intends to leave, she suddenly hears unusual noises and cries of alarm. She looks towards their source, and sees a great beast covered in mud, rampaging between the mountain rocks. One moment, it is treading upon the poets' verses, the other, it is muddying the waters they were watching, all while nearly knocking over some of the noodly scholars. Eventually, it tires itself out, boldly resting itself by the water.
The scholars trepidly approach it to have a better look. Someone notices it is a burdenbeast, its body bearing deep scars left by ropes lashed to it year-round, alongside many ghastly injuries. But now it has no name plate, nor reins. No doubt it is now masterless... With such a wicked temperament, could it be a warbeast that was discharged?
This meeting of a vulgar intruder would ordinarily put a damper on the graceful assembly of the intellectuals, but the poets guess at its history with gusto, and there is talk of composing a poem about this amusing incident. They spread out paper and grind their ink, carefully observing the burdenbeast in search of inspiration. They did not expect the beast to suddenly stand up and prepare to charge. In the face of its fury, the desire to compose is scared out of the scholars, and they scatter and flee. Only the solitary poet under the tree remains.
She says to the burdenbeast: 'A thousand li you have traveled. The creek's waters shall leave your thirst unslaked.' She opens a jug of fine wine, and invites it to drink. After a sip, the beast giddily slurps at the liquor, and soon, the jug is half-empty, and she watches the beast totter a few steps. Suddenly, sand whirls through the air. The poet looks out to see dark clouds on the horizon, the flicker of thunder faint within them. Catastrophe clouds!
She looks at the burdenbeast, its back now laden with a multitude of people. It no longer seems exhausted, nor wrathful. It strides firmly, sprinting like mad while carrying its precious cargo. It rushes forward, dodging the falling Originium crystals. It runs, running through clouds of dust and dirt, charging out of Catastrophe's reach. It keeps running, bearing the people upon its back to find a safe haven.
'It seems I am within your dream,' murmurs the poet.
The burdenbeast runs and runs and runs, towards the verdant green before it. Its steps do not slow, yet the sight before its eyes becomes vague and indistinct.
'I see. Yea, vehicles were their invention, and fair lands have they found. You need not run any longer. But, how could you possibly stop?'
The sky clears, and the sand-laden wind disappears. The green meadow is also gone, leaving both poet and burdenbeast sitting under the tree by the Xuyu Pavilion.
The burdenbeast stands once more, not looking towards the poet or any fond memory of the land. It strides, then gallops at full speed with wild abandon. Nothing can stop it. The poet stands up, with her tail a brush, wine her ink, she begins to scribe upon the mountain rocks like mad.
The tides of history may rise and fall, yet they are but an instant.
Men only speak of the new waves of later generations surging forward, far and wide, but they do not see elden waves of generations past, refusing to stop dreaming of the sea.
The poet finally seems tipsy.
