The original text of "Immortal Insomnia" is as follows:
He failed the exam! One thousand two hundred years ago. The list is so big and long, but his name is not there. ah! Unexpectedly, his name alone cannot accommodate the two characters "Zhang Ji".
The names of those who pass the exam are written on the list one by one, and the world knows it. The strange thing is that in his feeling, if you fail the exam, it will be known to the whole world. This fact makes him feel ashamed and depressed.
Leave the capital! After negotiating the price, he set foot on the boat. The originally expected plot was not like this. It might have been about arranging flowers and parading through the streets, the romance of horse hooves, and the glory of returning home in splendid robes and wands. However, during the ten years of Hanchuang, although he had his presence in the palace, there was no seat for him at the Qionglin Banquet. The boat moves like the wind.
Jiang Feng was like a fire, holding up a cold flame on the shore. That evening, the boat arrived in Suzhou. However, for Zhang Ji, this beautiful ancient city is nothing more than another place that touches his melancholy.
If there is anything that should be done during the day, for a scholar, it is reading! What about night? It’s time to sleep at night so that you can be refreshed enough to read the next day. However, tonight is a sad night. Tonight, in a foreign land, by the river, in the cold autumn season, a down-and-out scholar is allowed to indulge his sorrow. The river can infinitely absorb the tears of all those who have had troubles throughout the ages.
On such a night, I sit cruelly and listen to the sound of my heart being eaten away by something and disappearing bit by bit. And he watched helplessly as his life was like a broken lamp in the strong wind, all his energy was spent on resisting, the oil was running out, and the slight fire might be extinguished every moment. However, the hateful thing is that throughout its life, it has never been gorgeous and brilliant!
The river slept, the boat slept, the boatman slept, and the people on the shore also slept. Only he, Zhang Ji, couldn't sleep. The deeper the night went, the more awake he became. He was as awake as a dead tree with fallen leaves, and like an empty nest where Liang Yan has flown away.
At first, he refused to sleep. (After all, haven't you been rejected everywhere in this half of your life?) Then, he was angry, okay, if he has no sleep, he will have no sleep, and he has been awake alone for a long time, so he just has to have his own injuries thoroughly examined. Why not?
The moon was setting in the west, looking uninterested. There is a bird singing, and it is hoarse and hoarse, it is a crow. The moon became even dimmer as it screamed. On the river bank, I think there are thousands of grasses covered with frost. In the night sky, the stars are like clear frost, scattered and miserable.
He felt as if there was a coldness in his beard and eyebrows. The cold air with malicious intent was waiting to condense into the frost flowers of early autumn to decorate his bleak young face. .
There are two or three fishermen on the river. What are they doing? Are you fishing? Or, shrimp? Will they also cast an empty net? The world is hard! Even if you are a cool fisherman, you can’t help but get involved in the storm, right? However, can work hard. I, Zhang Ji, am the only one who has no regard for heaven and earth. I have neither the right to work nor the blessing to sleep.
The bell rang, this strange late-night bell of Hanshan Temple. In general temples, there are evening drums and morning bells. Hanshan Temple rings the "midnight bell" to shock the world. The sound of the bell came close to the water. To others, the sound was just the vague background music in sleep. In his case, each hit hit his heart, hitting the vital point. The sound of the bell is so beautiful, but does the sound of the bell itself hurt or not?
Since he had insomnia, he stood up from his pillow and wrote the four words "Night Mooring at Maple Bridge" in the dark. Then, copy the remaining twenty-eight characters. I say "copy" because those twenty-eight words have stood out in his heart like the black letters on the white wall:
The moon is setting, the crows are crying, the sky is full of frost, Jiang Feng is fishing and the fire is facing melancholy. At Hanshan Temple outside Gusu City, the bell rang at midnight to reach the passenger ship.
Thank God, if there had not been Zhang Ji who failed, there would have been one less good poem in the history of poetry, and there would have been no one to explain our certain moods.
Twelve hundred years have passed. Who was the top pick on that long list (that is, the gold list that Zhang Ji couldn’t squeeze into)? ha! Who cares who he is? The name that is really remembered is "Zhang Ji, the loser".
Will anyone remember the grand scene of the No. 1 pick paraded through the streets in red? No! We only remember the frustrated man on the passenger ship on the autumn night and his immortal insomnia