Drunk in Love
What? In television dramas, only supporting female characters can be the malicious ones? Yet reality has taught her that kindness only leads to the ruin of one's own life! Her mysterious return is shrouded in uncertainty—is it a rebirth, or is there a deeper meaning behind it? From enigmatic lover to the ultimate other woman, why must her love always exist as a shadow, never to see the light of day? Schemes and passion! Desire and pain! How can a love as cold as zero degrees soar across the vast ocean? Under the glaring spotlights, sharp questions cut straight to the heart of everyone present. “Miss Ning, the public calls you the perfect example of a mistress who has succeeded in taking the main stage. In your view, does love ever have a rightful order of who comes first and who comes later?” Bathed in dazzling lights, the woman curved her lips in a contradictory smile—a blossom of beauty in a fleeting moment. Her lips parted gently as she replied, “Miss, if there truly is an order of precedence in love, then I suggest you return these words, exactly as they are, to those you consider the true victims of love.” She cast aside the vanity and clamor behind her. Perhaps, in this dazzling, entangled world, only after intoxication can one find peace.
Drunk in Love
In the early hours before dawn, the alternating notes of the piano—C major, F-sharp minor, and E major—drift slowly through the night, less than an hour from sunrise. There is no singing, only the lonely resonance of a hollow piano swirling around the room, accompanied by a glass of pale, mellow liquor.
Some say that in the labyrinthine world of intersecting paths, perhaps only when you are truly intoxicated can you glimpse the serene peace deep within your soul—and at that moment, though you are alone, you savor it.
I pause my hands, which had been enjoying the solitude of playing, as a chill wind sneaks in, making me gradually feel the cold.
It is now early spring in Italy—a season that makes it easiest to taste loneliness.
I gently sip the moist, warm air. How cold it is!
My fingertips lightly trace the surface of the piano. Perhaps my life is just like these keys: one black, one white.
At least, in the eyes of others, it seems so sorrowful.
Yet, I truly enjoy the life I have now.
Dawn. Five minutes past four. Slowly, in one corner of the sky outside the window, a faint light appears. I stand by the window, gazing out at the world, imagining that in this very moment, somewhere else, there might be someone just like me, who relishes a life others cannot comprehend.
A gentle smile touches my lips. In the window’s reflection, my eyes reveal a light even I cannot understand. Perhaps, in the end, I will have to return there.
—I embrace solitude, I savor solitude, yet, sometimes, I despise it.
by: A woman wh
