As for wine, I often prefer to drink alone. Everyone has a side of self-admiration, and I was captivated by her gentleness and charm, which gave rise to unusual feelings.
It seems that ancient literati had already interpreted fine wine to its fullest extent; through their words, elegance and freedom surge like a tide, a kind of unrestrained intoxication. Even the heroism on the battlefield is not without a touch of hazy tenderness. Sometimes, even despondency can be attributed to the solace of fine wine. Sip slowly, savor slowly, drink heartily—that is the aesthetic of the East.
"Let us sing to wine, for life is short"—this is the charm of Cao Cao. A hero of his time, lamenting the world, also entrusted his tenderness to the golden goblet of wine. I wonder if there was a hint of indifference in the story of the green plum and Liu Bei's smile? Putting aside his scheming for now, is this sincerity of pouring out his heart to wine something Liu Bei could possibly understand? Yet, it seems the Imperial Uncle was soft-hearted, washing away the entire dynasty with tears. However, upon closer examination, this is either scheming or "weakness," revealing no trace of masculinity or tenderness. Fang Rilong uttered scathing words, startling Xuande...
Strong wine is called Yang, while its gentleness is called Yin. In the context of the I Ching, this represents the two sides of things, but what they truly show us is strength and gentleness. During the Spring and Autumn Period, the famous ministers Yan Ying and Sima Rangju refused to drink with Duke Jing of Qi. Qi's strength and restraint made its enemies wary, thus securing its position as the first of the Five Hegemons of the Spring and Autumn Period. This easily leads us to the opposite example: "A strong army attacks its general; a wise general attacks its emotions." Goujian's use of Xi Shi and other valuable treasures to please King Fuchai of Wu exemplifies "sleeping on firewood and tasting gall"—the so-called strength. Wine and women are considered gentleness. The combined use of wine and women leads to "decline." Even the strongest person will collapse; three thousand armors cannot withstand three inches of softness. Therefore, the gentleness of wine should be distinguished from the gentleness of lust. Here, I am describing tenderness, not the harm of drinking or the loss of ambition through indulgence.
It seems that the lack of understanding of romance by some upright people towards the emperor only serves to highlight the arrogance of hesitant and ambitious individuals. But who hasn't expressed their feelings about wine? From the emperor to the common people, everyone is an independent individual with their own thoughts, only their understanding of the world may differ slightly. Poetry expresses aspirations, and prose expresses emotions. Talented people emerge in every generation, each leading the way for hundreds of years. Some say that for Liu Yong, sweet wine was a way to harmonize the atmosphere. In fact, whether it's sweet wine or strong liquor, as long as the tenderness in one's heart is present, everything will become natural. It's not just about the gentleness of one's heart, but also about the outward expression of a gentle temperament. Most of his poems are about spring, which is why he is sometimes described as having a gentle nature. In fact, he was more clear-headed than anyone else, simply understanding that the birth and death of some people are mostly due to "emotion." Another interpretation is that while Su Shi's poems are suitable for loud singing with strong liquor, some words are not meant to be shouted out. For example, when Su Shi parted ways with Shao You in Yangzhou, he wrote "Yu Meiren": "The sound of waves laps against my pillow at dawn on the Huai River, the sliver of moonlight peeks at me from behind a crack, the heartless Bian River flows eastward, carrying only a boatload of parting sorrow to the west. We once drank together in the bamboo shade and flower garden, the wine was less than the tears, who can withstand the dust and grime that brews a storm of sorrow to send me away?" Here, the poem expresses the idea of drinking to dispel sorrow. When old friends part, there is often a sense of mutual appreciation and regret for not having met sooner, and the poem should not merely be read aloud, but rather imbued with delicate emotions. Therefore, many people have said that tenderness is an indispensable psychological state. Xin Qiji, a man of both heroic spirit and tender sentiment, also wrote poems with a youthful touch. His line, "Do not lean against the perilous railing, for the setting sun shines brightly, where willows and smoke break the heart," is hardly recognizable as the work of a tall, burly, and powerful warrior. It seems far removed from the image of a scholar. Even more surprising is that this great Southern Song poet, who lamented "the flowers blooming too early in spring," was only twenty-three years old at the time. His patriotic fervor, his ambition to serve his country, and his vast knowledge were left unfulfilled—a tragedy of that era and of life—yet it also forged a generation of unparalleled heroism and tenderness.
Tao Yuanming's chrysanthemum wine subtly embodies the carefree joy of pastoral life. Lu You's lifelong love affair with Tang Wan destined him to a time of tender resentment: "The vows remain, but letters cannot be sent. Alas, alas, alas!" I imagine that Lu You, a man of tragic fate, was also a connoisseur of wine. This same tenderness also stirred Fan Zhongyan's sorrow, turning wine into tears of longing. Ouyang Xiu's "Record of the Drunken Pavilion" has been widely circulated for centuries. "He who can share in the joy of being drunk, and who can describe it in writing when sober, is the Prefect." Who is this Prefect? Ouyang Xiu of Luling. The word "joy," the word "drunken," conveys a beautiful "scene," quite different from the sentiments expressed by other poets.
Speaking of wine, the first name that comes to mind is Li Bai. The "Poet Immortal" Li Bai, a lover of wine, is one of the most resounding names in Chinese history. He surpassed many emperors with vast empires, and many generals and ministers with illustrious achievements, reaching a level of fame known to everyone, his name spreading far and wide, remaining an insurmountable symbol to this day. Li Bai could compose a hundred poems after drinking a jug of wine—a feat unmatched by most. "Drinking Alone Under the Moon," "Drinking Alone Under the Moon," "Drinking Wine at Phoenix Terrace in Jinling," "Written While Traveling," "Farewell to My Children in Nanling Before Entering the Capital," and "Farewell at a Tavern in Jinling"—these immortal works, are they not merely imbued with the tenderness of wine? A touch of drunkenness, half of the Tang Dynasty's glory...
Everyone has a pure land within their heart, yet it is often buried beneath the glitz and glamour. Through long nights and chilly winds, we endure the vicissitudes of life, but brute force cannot remove obstacles; wounds need gentle comfort. Love and affection are swayed by the chaos of the world; who will brew wine for us? Intense heroism and graceful tenderness complement each other; fine wine, in turn, forges the cry of the human heart. Dejection and disappointment, grief and sorrow, ambition and the fate of the nation... the shackles of fame and fortune, the lingering attachment of fleeting spring, a few words of dust, countless willow branches, laughing at my despondency. How many can truly remain indifferent to fame and fortune, living a carefree life in the mountains? In the gloom, the hesitant man can only entrust his thoughts to old wine. Last year yesterday, we drank and recited poems, sipping wine to express our feelings and intoxicate with longing. The lotus blossoms blushed, the moon rose above the willow tips. For whom did this gentle charm find solace? Songs and dances filled the jade tower. This night is sad, the incense burner is cold. Only a pool of autumn water remains, half a river reflecting the bright moon. The sky is high and the clouds are distant, the moon is bright and the smoke flies, the sorrow of parting is hard to express as the west wind urges on. The paulownia leaves fall on the mandarin duck quilt, like the tears of a maiden. The token of love is fragrant and the silk is beautiful, but the heart is broken, and one is thin and deceitful. Tonight, I am drunk, singing a sad song of fleeting years. Let the sun and moon come and go like shuttles. Young man, who would want to perish? Alone, I venture forth. A man's tears fall on the back of the sword, the wind rises and the clouds move. I worship the moon and ask the heavens, my heart is without shame! I am arrogant and reckless. I pour out my heart, the beauty looks up. Two places of idle sorrow are entrusted to my heart. On the road of wandering, at the place of conveying love, the wild geese fly across the autumn sky. How many times can one truly be drunk in this mortal world? Even in moments of confusion...
yet for a woman to drink, it takes on a different kind of charm; perhaps woman herself is a kind of wine. It's easy to overcome strength with gentleness, but who but tenderness can soothe my worldly thoughts? Of the forty-odd poems left by Li Qingzhao, twenty mention wine, almost half of her works. "A poem with perilous rhymes is completed, the wine sobers me, a different kind of leisurely taste." In her youth, Li Qingzhao possessed a refined and elegant beauty. Before her southward migration, her style was clear and natural, often depicting a leisurely and peaceful life, with a positive and optimistic tone. The lines "I often remember the pavilion by the stream at dusk, so drunk I forgot the way home" were written in a state of tenderness and intoxication fueled by wine. If we think back to those days, she presents us with a unique kind of allure: a hazy, charming, languid, and delicate beauty... A woman drinking is an intriguing affair, and women who appreciate wine are often women who have been hurt. The restraint and tenderness they display to the world carry wounds that are difficult to heal.
Perhaps for Liu Ling, the famous drunkard among the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove, wine was another interpretation of life. Even a few peanuts paired with a pot of liquor—ah! How fortunate! It was both stylish and charming. There's a saying: art originates from life but transcends it. So, how many people would "go mad" if life were without wine? Throughout history, songs have expressed the authors' tender feelings, making us seem so easily resonant; in reality, we are all emotional beings, vulnerable to hardship. Wine, for the soul, is indeed a kind of suffering.
In contrast to the gentle, flowing nature of wine is the restless, fiery passion of life, as if they too have accepted a sacred mission. Even ancient, dry words cannot fully convey the sense of vicissitude that wine brings. Water is bland, but wine possesses endless charm. What is its purpose? Where is it going? Its traces are unfathomable; perhaps intoxication has existed since the dawn of history.
Sometimes, even the strongest liquor, when it reaches my lips, I savor it a little longer before slowly swallowing. There's no need to grimace and complain about worldly social obligations; we should also appreciate them, for the gentleness of alcohol allows us to escape the hustle and bustle. Live for today, for tomorrow we may die. Whether it's traditional Chinese millet wine or Western-imported cocktails, appreciating its charm truly gives us a sense of tranquility and elegance. Its gentleness sometimes allows our hearts to wander into a state of decadence, a Taoist sense of "non-action," a feeling of both exhilaration and self-forgetfulness—that is intoxication...
What can dispel sorrow? Only Du Kang (wine)!
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