Chapter Sixty-two Pray, tell me, how much sorrow can one bear? (II)
Word Number：248
Author：一曲雨霖铃
Translator：
Release Time：2025-09-28
The Great Way cannot be veiled, though lofty towers strive to obscure it; In youthful years steeds were tied as we drank the rosy glow of twilight. Before the wind our sashes were knotted in vows of one heart; At the bottom of cups, faces bloomed like flowers that spoke. South and north the roads wound by the walls of Xiaodu; Beyond the rail-gates, carts passed endlessly to and fro. Hastily, all seemed but a dream of Yangzhou; Counting idle griefs, I found them all traced in the silver of my hair. Now, when Wu Yizong led his troops to Zhaozhou (whose seat lay at Pingji, today’s Zhao County, Hebei), he heard that Luo Wuzheng, a commander under Sun Wanrong, was advancing with several thousand horsemen to strike Jizhou. Wu Yizong was seized with dread, intending to retreat to Xiangzhou (today’s Anyang, Henan). His strategists admonished him: “My lord, the Khitans have come from afar with no supply trains; they must live by pillage. If Your Highness holds firm within the passes, time will scatter them. Then, if you march to strike, you shall reap great merit.” Yet Wu Yizong, void of courage, dared not heed the counsel. Without a fight he withdrew toward Xiangzhou, abandoning countless stores and weapons in his hurried march. Sun Wanrong, seizing the chance, pressed on and took Zhaozhou. By nightfall the city was broken, and the Khitans put it to the sword. The tidings reached Luoyang, and the Empress could
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