He left the bridge when the sun was at its peak. When he came back, he searched and he searched, and when he finally looked up, the sun had begun to set.
It was twilight. But to him, the lights looked as if they had parted at dawn.
***
Poems in Xie Bi'an's perspective after Fan Wujiu's death, until the Ghost Festival.
This fic will make use of references to classical Chinese literature, culture &c. I'll put annotations in the endnotes when that happens. In addition, while I wrote Xie Bi'an with a strong queerplatonic attraction in mind, I've left the actual nature of their relationship pretty open-ended, so interpret it however you want. Comments/concrit appreciated.
if you're only going to read a few, read this poem, Wei Sheng Under the Bridge, I will wait for your [...], Waking up Disoriented [...], and Puddles after a Storm. Or if you really just want to read one, read Puddles after a Storm.
Murmuring faces ask
Of the bridge swallowed by ground.
The bridge that’s been collapsed
Cuts through wavering clouds.
Tree branches, wind-swept,
Are eaten by currents
—No trace of a waiting man
Looming over jostling crowds—
Another sun ripples in the river
But is it only I that asks of the moon?
High at noon did the sun stand;
In the horizon now it lies halved.
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