公元978年,七月初七。开封,陇西郡公府。这一年的七夕之夜显得无比平静和诡异,傍晚时分,雨霁微晴,天边残留着几朵巧云,勉强为这个浪漫的日子装点着几许情感上的慰藉。“迢迢牵牛星,皎皎河汉女。盈盈一水间,脉脉不得语。”李煜踱步在院内的芭蕉叶旁,心里念起了古人的诗句。诗,让他感到轻松和愉悦,十多年来,有过无数次这样的瞬间,他沉浸在诗和画的世界里,忘却了自己的身份,也忘却了那个支离破碎的天下。 AD 978, July seventh day. Kaifeng, Longxi County government. This year’s Tanabata night seemed very calm and strange, in the evening, the rain is very sunny, the sky there are a few residual clouds, barely decorated for this romantic day with a few emotional comfort. “Altair altair, Jiaohehe Hannv. Yingying a water, veins not language.” Li Yu paced in the yard of banana leaves, my heart recalled the poem of the ancients. Poetry made him feel relaxed and pleasurable. For more than a decade, there have been so many moments in which he was immersed in the world of poetry and painting, forgetting his identity and forgetting the fragmented world.