Lyrics, composition, and arrangement by Lin Yuye
Performed by ACE Xiaoye
May 2021
A door opens with a creak, and two figures step through it one after the other, drawn into the depth of night.
The wind comes cold, almost choking on its own grief, yet even that chill cannot snuff out the soul of the stars. There is a loneliness here that feels severe and frost-bitten: one person facing only their own shadow, one person left to pity themselves. And still, if fate had never been trusted in the beginning, there would never have been an "us" at all.
In the western sky, the full moon hangs high while the stars seem to race after it, flickering like memory itself—now warm, now cold, with traces of both still lingering. Dew settles over a green field like a carpet, washing away the heavy dust that has gathered in the heart. Far-reaching clear waters mirror the Milky Way, and in that reflection youth flows backward, returning from a distance where it had long since disappeared.
Time feels eternal there. The heart, too, is stripped back to something simple and true.
The moon belongs with the stars. The shimmer on the lake belongs to the two of us. Heaven and earth belong to silence, and that silence breaks apart the stubborn chaos that once refused to yield.
At last, I arrive at the crossing. I set out from that shore ready to conquer the vast frozen river ahead. What I ask for is not grandeur, only that your fervor might live again, and that there will be no need to sigh anymore beneath that solitary bright wheel of moonlight suspended in the empty sky.
Again the scene returns: the full moon in the west, the stars in pursuit, their light carrying the afterheat and afterchill of memory. Dew on the emerald grass cleanses the heart. The distant, lucid current reflects a river of stars, and with it the vanished years of youth seem to surge upstream.
Then the east begins to brighten.
At the far edge of the violet night, white light appears. I lie in the vast grassland and watch the direction where you are running. You and I are like birds newly freed from a cage, flying willfully beyond the world itself. Even wrapped in a desolation so deep it seems to leave no place to belong, we still rise.
Fly on—until at last we fall into the boundless sea.