1 The Letter From ‘Tang Xuan’

This essay is the letter that Tang Xuan writes to his wife on page 10 of the story before she mounts her carriage and leaves. I chose to do this because it felt like a more personal, first-person account than the third-person narrative the story gave us. This allowed me to explore the themes of grief, death, love, gender and the afterlife in new and interesting ways. 

To my dearest wife,

It has been ages since you passed away, and yet the pain in my heart only seems to grow stronger with each passing day. I cannot seem to escape the overwhelming emptiness that has taken hold of me since you left. The silence that fills our home now is unbearable. I remember the day you left this world like it was yesterday. I was holding your hand, feeling the warmth of your touch slowly slip away. Your eyes closed for the last time, and I felt a part of me die along with you. Since that moment, the world has lost its colour, and life has felt meaningless without you. I never imagined a life without you by my side. You were my constant companion, my partner in everything, and my soulmate. I loved you more than anything, and now that you’re gone, I feel a profound sense of loss and loneliness. I still find myself reaching for your hand when I wake up in the morning or turning to tell you about my day, only to remember that you’re no longer here. I long for the sound of your voice, the warmth of your embrace, and the love that you brought into my life. I know that you’re watching over me from wherever you are, but it’s not enough. I want to hold you close, feel your touch, and tell you how much I love you one more time. I miss you more than words can express, and the pain of your absence will always be with me. You were the love of my life, and now that you’re gone, I don’t know how to go on without you. Truly my darling, I sometimes long for the day I die because it would mean I get to be reunited with you.

Do you know how much guilt I’ve experienced ever since the one night I had this dream — I dreamt about you weeping behind flowers and then laughing as you peeped into a well. It was truly horrifying. You know I don’t typically believe in these things, but in this case, in the matter of your life or death, I couldn’t help but immediately put on my clothes and run to a diviner. The diviner said — and oh God I remember this like it was yesterday, it’ll be etched into my brain forever — he said, “those who cry behind flowers, their beauty fades with the blowing of the wind; those who smile while peeping into wells, they delight in taking the path to the Yellow Springs.” I tormented over this until I saw you later that evening, and then I tried to forget. I tried to lean into my cynicism. After three short, agonising days, I was informed of your death. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was something I could have prevented since I knew of it in advance, but I was in denial. I didn’t want to believe it, let alone talk to you about what I’d heard. Forgive me.

Sometimes when I miss you most dearly, the guilt and grief overcome all logical parts of my mind. I lie in bed and torment over the ways in which I did you wrong. You said it yourself, you

had always appreciated elegant writings, but out of fear of disappointing me, you never let yourself compose. I fret over the ways in which you were repressed by this marriage, and I wonder about your life in the netherworld and whether it’s better than what it used to be like with me. I wonder if you miss me.

I feel like I’m betraying my love for my new wife when I think about you. There is so much shame in a man’s heart when he is caught between two women, one of which he can never have again. I know I was fated to remarry, I know we are now happy together, and yet, my heart longs for you. I feel as though our connection transcends the bounds of life and death — sincerely, my love for you is no different from when you were alive. I know there wasn’t a lot of time between my marriages but that’s because there was so much pressure on me from the rest of my family to find a good woman who would look after me. I was so frightfully lonely without you.

Wow, I can’t believe that what happened between us today was real. It is as if the universe itself broke the laws of life and death, time and space in order to form a tiny crack that leaves an opening for us to reconnect. Indeed, meeting you was so surreal, I don’t think I can ever forget it. Every second that we spent together today invigorated a thousand older memories from before your death. So much has changed in my life, and I want to see you again to hear more about the changes in yours. I must admit, the thought of your body saddens me. I can viscerally feel the coldness of your hands, your feet, your breath. You said you couldn’t recall at all when you died and, moreover, had no knowledge of where you were buried. You said you do not give it much thought. What a remarkable way to live! Me, on the other hand, I’m constantly fretting over my body. Fretting over my age and worsening ability. Agonising over this pain in my shoulder or that ache in my stomach. Your life must be so free. Your everlasting youth bewitches me. Your never-ending intelligence and insight into life beyond the netherworld fascinate me. Yet, I remain confused and longing. I remain unable to feel you in my arms and relate to you. I still feel frightened by what you said about the netherworld’s teachings regarding the transformation from something into nothing. Is that what happened to you, to your body after death? Are those the details you were protecting me from? I am your husband, you should be able to tell me anything and I should be able to protect you. I’m sorry I was a coward and didn’t ask more questions, but when we meet again I will ensure you pass your knowledge on to me.

Until then,

Your brokenhearted husband.