我做了一个意难平的梦｜记录｜改编短篇小说｜中英双语｜多结局

It's autumn.
As the autumn wind whisks away the fallen leaves, a slightly chilly breeze carries a touch of sorrow somehow. The remains of summer are fading away in slow motion, with the heat of the air cooling back down.

The evening breeze strolles across the fields, leaving the green tinted gold by the setting autumn sun.
"I had a dream last night. Would you like to hear it?"
" Must you leave? This is a war you cannot win alone."

Without speaking, he smiled and caressed the hair of the one in front. His eyes were not exactly bright, perhaps there was some helplessness, maybe some love, possibly a hint of despair and reluctance as well.
In the distance, the dark shadow's gaze was like a razor, the blackness and the loftiness of the figure was daunting.

He turned and mounted his horse, with the red tassel and snow-white clothes fluttering in the wind. He smiled at those guilty and unwilling eyes as he looked back, and glanced up at the rice fields further down the road. The fields had all been harvested, the remnants of the straw piles emanating a faint scent of the mixture of dust and crops silently.

With a whip, the horse's hooves began to tramp over the ground made of shattered debris and rubble.
His silhouette receded, and finally melted into the horizon.
In the age of blood and fire, a coward was born, who was too scared to see blood, let alone a corpse.

When he returned, he was wrapped in two pieces of gauze-like fabric, the blood had not soaked through and these two scraps of clothing were still snow white.
The coward was not afraid, for these were the pieces of him. Although he was gone, they seemed as if they still had a residual warmth left.

It was impossible that anyone could have figured that out. Where could there be residual warmth when even the blood had drained to the point that the white fabric was unstained.
Barren fields witnessed, dilapidated trails and houses on sides knew that there was a man running around holding something snow-white. The tearstains on this man's face looked like birthmarks, the legs occasionally twitched, but the hands always stayed steady in the hug.

Howling cries occasionally drifted through the air, and the world knows that they came from the one who was hoarse and hysterical.
The storyteller lets out a long sigh and shakes his head. The autumn breeze is still a little chilly and the hoarse sigh is somehow full of regret and lament.

There is no listener in sight, the touch of autumn reflected in his eyes.
After a long silence, the corner of a snow-white coat suddenly appeared in sight.
"It’s time to go home."