#Han Shan

[mountain-sage]

[suibiansubs]

Jian Chu Han Shan novel chapter updates!

We’re releasing! :O

Han Shan novel chapters have been updated to chapter 60! You can access these on our Discord or https://www.novelupdates.com/series/han-shans-sword-unsheathed/

We may be releasing more stuff soon so stay updated by visiting us here. Can’t access tumblr where you live?? We now have a carrd!!

https://suibiansubs.carrd.co/

[leahsfiction]

as i threatened in the tags: there's a poem for that

untitled ("pity this sickness of living things")

han shan

pity this sickness of living things: they dine and taste, and are they ever satisfied?

steamed piglet: marinate in garlic black-bean roast duck: sprinkle with pepper salt

pick the bones out of fresh raw fish leave the skin on a well-done cheek

they don't know whose lives are bitter they only take and take so they and theirs are sweet.

憐底眾生病 餐嚐略不厭 蒸豚搵蒜醬 炙鴨點椒鹽 去骨鮮魚膾 兼皮熟肉臉 不知他命苦 只取自家甜

if i wasn't thinking about beefleaf i would probably rephrase the last line to read more smoothly; 自家 can be interpreted as "oneself" or "one's family", and the former probably makes for a better ending couplet (e.g., "whose lives are bitter" ... "so theirs alone are sweet"). HOWEVER it is nearly midnight and i AM thinking all about this silly gothic side drama. so.

i'm definitely trying to pay more attention to metre in my poetry/translations. but as for individual pieces, i'm not sure how well that's going!

further reading: W. L. Idema, "Purpose and Form: On the Translation of Classical Chinese Poetry" (2019)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

"Once at Cold Mountain, troubles cease - No more tangled, hung-up mind. I idly scribble poems on the rock cliff, Taking whatever comes, like a drifting boat." ~ Han Shan

[Thanks Ian Sanders]

[cobotis]

The mind is always seeking zones of safety; and these zones of safety are continually falling apart. Then we scramble to get another zone of safety back together again. We spend all our energy and waste our lives trying to recreate these zones of safety, which are always falling apart. That’s the essence of samsara —the cycle of suffering that comes from continuing to seek happiness in all the wrong places…

~ Pema Chödrön

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

重岩我卜居 ／寒山子 Han Shan

重岩我卜居，鳥道絕人跡。

庭際何所有，白雲抱幽石。

住茲凡幾年，屢見春冬易。

寄語鐘鼎家，虛名定無益。

In a tangle of cliffs, I chose a place -

Bird paths, but no trails for me.

What's beyond the yard?

White clouds clinging to vague rocks.

Now I've lived here - how many years -

Again and again, spring and winter pass.

Go tell families with silverware and cars

"What's the use of all that noise and money?"

(Translated by Gary Snyder)

The Hermit by Ludwig Sckell

[buddhismnow]

Morning Meditation — High on a mountain peak.

Morning Meditation — High on a mountain peak. https://wp.me/pFy3u-854

‘High on a mountain peak only boundless space is seen.’ Han Shan Colourful sunset over Totnes. On our Twitter account, Buddhism Now @Buddhism_Now, most mornings we post a ‘morning meditation’ like the one above. Click here to read more Morning Meditation posts. On the net, of course, it’s morning, afternoon, evening, or nighttime 😀 somewhere. Click here to read more teachings by Han Shan.

[shenzhiheng]

every polycule must have: the baby girl, the guy that's dying, and the mass murderer (insp.)

[mountain-sage]

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

欲得安身處 ／寒山子 Han Shan

欲得安身處，寒山可長保。

微風吹幽松，近聽聲愈好。

下有斑白人，喃喃讀黃老。

十年歸不得，忘卻來時道。

I wanted a good place to settle:

Cold Mountain would be safe.

Light wind in a hidden pine -

Listen close - the sound gets better.

Under it a gray haired man

Mumbles along reading Huang and Lao.

For ten years I havn't gone back home

I've even forgotten the way by which I came.

(Translated by Gary Snyder)

Poet and Recluse Hanshan, 1400s, Cleveland Museum of Art: Chinese Art

Size: Mounted: 279.2 x 90.5 cm (109 15/16 x 35 5/8 in.); Painting only: 143.5 x 71.8 cm (56 ½ x 28 ¼ in.) Medium: hanging scroll, ink and color on silk

https://clevelandart.org/art/1991.117

[fanghuas]

This interaction happened, it was revealed to me in a dream

[roseverie]

CLAIRE | CLAIRESSE; meaning clear and bright or enlightened

“My heart is like the autumn moon / perfectly bright […]”

requested by @cemeteryorchid

[aiyexayen]

I promise im not a bot, and to prove it i'll ask for a hanzhou kiss 🥺 doesnt have to be wholesome, just whatever strikes your fancy

🥹❤️

The first time happens thoughtlessly, almost unintentionally.

Han Ying is 14 and not yet used to his limbs after his recent growth spurt. He didn't know he could have growth spurts before he had access to regular meals. But he can, and he is sure that's why he screwed up his assignment. Regardless of the reason, he is still responsible for ruining Tian Chuang's entire mission today.

And somehow, he has been forgiven. By a man with more mercy than Han Ying knows how to handle.

Anyone else, he is certain, would have thrown him back where he came from.

On his knees before Zhou-shouling, he finds himself too overcome for words of gratitude, reaching instead for the hand hanging idle at Zhou-shouling's side. He grips it in both of his. It's instinct; hasn't he seen so many servants do something like this when their masters bid them?

Han Ying's lips press into the soft skin for just a second before he feels Zhou-shouling's flinch. He looks up in time to catch confusion, smoothing into understanding and...things he doesn't quite recognise.

Qin-xiongdi tells him later, eyes dancing with mirth, that he should have pressed the hand to his forehead, not his mouth--except he shouldn't have done anything of the sort actually and he really has so much to learn about living in society, doesn't he?

Han Ying nods absently, because it's true, but he goes to bed with cheeks warm from the lingering memory of pressure on his lips and the untameable thoughts of a 14 year old mind.

The second time cannot be called an accident, mere months after the first. But neither is it calculated.

They are celebrating Zhou-shouling's twentieth birthday. Or rather, Zhou-shouling and Qin-xiongdi disappeared up to the palace early in the evening to celebrate and Han Ying has waited up alone for sounds of their return, vigilant, something he pretends is not yearning sitting heavy in the aching pit of his stomach.

When they do return it is...surprisingly loud.

Han Ying is very good at what he does, and still there are days when he cannot hear Zhou-shouling approach. The man is not just merciful, not just understanding and patient and full of barely-subdued humour, but also a refined gentleman, clever and skilled beyond measure.

So why is it that tonight Han Ying can hear not only Qin-xiongdi's clomping but Zhou-shouling next to him, stumbling?

He's out the door and down the hall in an instant, adrenaline pumpung, imagining the worst, imagining Zhou-shouling limping, covered in blood--

"'S Ying'er! What're yeu--you--out of bed! Doing! Hah!"

Han Ying stops in his tracks as a thoroughly wasted Zhou Zishu collapses against his hiccoughing, giggling shidi.

"Shixiong got--hc!--he got so drunk," Qin-xiongdi exclaims in the worst loud whisper Han Ying has ever heard. "Can you--hc!--believe it, Han Ying?--hc!"

Well, certainly he can, because it's right before him. What he can't really quite come to terms with is the fond, playful tone wrapped warmly around the unfamiliar Ying'er.

But when his two superiors almost fall over on their next step, Han Ying collects himself and steps in to relieve Qin-xiongdi of his task before he sends them both toppling to the ground.

"Shoul' get that boy some...that boy some more..." Zhou-shouling doesn't finish his thought, trailing off into a sigh as Qin-xiongdi leaves.

One hand grasping a limp arm, one hand firm on broad leather, it's quick work to get Zhou-shouling to his own rooms. But it's also so much closeness--too much for Han Ying to process: a head lolling onto his shoulder; hot breath at his neck and the smell of alcohol; warm weight against his side, so effortlessly trusting.

Ying'er.

Easier to slide under the mantle of duty and attentiveness than even acknowledge it as real, so in silence, he readies Zhou-shouling for bed; without Qin-xiongdi's energy, he seems content to simply drift.

Hydration--water droplets running down the corner of red lips, a strong chin--

Belt--hard leather hitting the floor, a quiet exhale of relief, a soft hum of contentment vibrating under his fingertips--

Boots--what if he slipped and touched that leg--what if he looked up from where he's kneeling and realised the position was just like--

Han Ying, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, tips Zhou-shouling over onto the bed and lifts his feet up to settle him properly. He's practically asleep already, his breathing deep and slow, stray hairs wisping around his cheeks.

Hands, resting easily across his middle. Han Ying lifts them up to tuck the blanket in under them. But perhaps he has tried too hard to not think at all tonight because as he goes to put them back down, determined to not notice Zhou-shouling's exposed neck, he finds himself ghosting his lips across cool fingertips.

What--what is he doing?! He freezes, drops Zhou-shouling's hands as though burnt, and looks up, breath caught.

But his shouling is still fast asleep. Fast asleep and drunk besides, his brain finally catches up and reminds him. Han Ying lets out his breath. He has no right to such intimacy, but he's been given a stay of execution tonight. He had better not waste it.

Carefully, he flees to his own room and doesn't think about anything else at all.

The third time...Han Ying cannot even guess how the third time comes to be.

He is young, and he strives to be good, to be the best. If not in skill than in obedience. It's no longer about debt, it's about loyalty.

But he is 15, going on 16, and even he cannot beat out of himself the independent streak that kept him alive on the streets all those years.

So he finds himself again on his knees, explaining his actions.

"You are right to tell me the truth the first time."

Who would dare try to lie to Zhou Zishu?

Something of his thoughts must show on Han Ying's downturned face because the man in question snorts lightly and adds, "Not all your fellows are as clever as you."

Han Ying keeps his head bowed, but tension drains from him; he would not be receiving such praise if he were seriously in trouble.

"Your actions are understandable, but not permitted," he is told. "I expect that the next time someone pushes you to the point of retaliation, I will not hear about it."

It takes a second for Han Ying to process the precise words he's hearing. But he cannot be mistaken; there is nobody more exact with his words than the exacting Zhou-shouling.

"Yes, Zhuangzhu," he ventures.

There's an unmistakable note of amusement when Zhou-zhuangzhu confirms, "Consider it your mission."

Permission, then. Permission to do whatever he wants, so long as he doesn't get caught. Han Ying didn't think he could adore him any more, but he does. Every day.

"Yes, Zhuangzhu."

"Come on, then."

And he looks up at last, but he does not see his zhuangzhu beckoning him to rise. Instead he stands directly in front of Han Ying, one hand slightly stretched toward him, palm still facing down. Han Ying furrows his brow.

"Zhuangzhu?"

"Don't tell me you suddenly don't know what to do," Zhou-zhuangzhu says, "Ying'er."

Certainly, he isn't...?

But there's a challenge behind his eyes, sparkling a bit, so similar to the way his shidi looks when he dares Han Ying to do something a bit reckless. Han Ying swallows, but reaches out his hands; he is not a coward.

He kisses Zhou-zhuangzhu's hand and as if they have done this a hundred--a thousand times before this, Zhou-zhuangzhu detaches himself with grace and waves Han Ying to stand.

"Very good. Go report for your chores."

Reeling, Han Ying does.

After that...after that, Han Ying has the great luxury to lose track. He belongs to Zhou Zishu in a way no other Tian Chuang operative does and he may not be one of the Siji Shanzhuang disciples, or even their disciples, but he is something, and there is rarely a time he finds himself on his knees that he is not allowed the privilege of that kiss.

He is 16 and sent to his knees with a sharp word after raising his voice to his zhuangzhu; his kiss is barely-there, ashamed and still prickling with discomfort, but no less sincere.

He is 17 and accepting his promotion; gratitude wells up in him and he allows it only to show in this gesture, determined to keep composure and make Zhou-zhuangzhu proud.

He is 18 and kneeling in spite of his broken leg, true failure heavy on his heart in a way he could not have imagined four years ago; he presses his bloody lips to a hand that he pretends is not ever-so-slightly trembling.

He is 19 and his heart stops in his chest every time he sees Zhou Zishu do, well, anything; he makes every excuse to kneel in his presence, for any reason, just so he can look up expectantly for the hand that is never denied.

He is 20 and letting his lips linger every time a bit longer, leaving these unspoken feelings in the sacred space between them--the only indulgence, he has realised, that either of them will ever allow.

He is 21 and Zhou-zhuangzhu has begun turning up drunk at his doorstep, not from any party he knows about; he leaves the kiss that is his by rights even on the nights Zhuangzhu is too far gone to notice.

He is 22 and no matter how severe Zhou-zhuangzhu gets, no matter how cold, he does not forget to give Han Ying his hand. He is 22 and gives Zhou-zhuangzhu the fullness of his fealty--as if there was ever any doubt he had it--and seals it in secret between them with the briefest of contact. He hopes it is not a greater burden than it is a tool.

He is 23 and Zhou Zishu is gone.

It is only then that Han Ying realises he lost count.

Each week that passes after that, he feels more and more bereft. It should seem silly, or stupid, that he misses something so ephemeral and ill-defined, but it's the most serious thing in the world. It never needed definition or explanation. And it was all he ever asked. All he wanted: to be allowed to cherish, even if not to be cherished in return.

He doesn't shirk his duty, but he loses all trace of satisfaction in it and there is a permanent tension between his shoulders that takes up residence and will not go.

But the worst is yet to happen, because the worst possible thing is the day he finds Zhou Zishu in the forest, heart full of relief and far too much else. Han Ying kneels on the rough ground, strung taut like a bow, and Zhou-zhuangzhu...pulls him to his feet.

And again, even when his companion has left them to their own devices.

And a third time, in Han Ying's own room.

For the first time in almost a decade, he didn't dare touch his drunk zhuangzhu more than necessary to lay him down in bed.

And then Zhou Zishu walks away from every declaration Han Ying frantically tries to make verbal, leaves him there drowning in the void between them.

That could have been the end of it. If it weren't for a collective display of quick thinking and good timing, it would have been; Han Ying is not easily deterred once he has set his mind on something. Not even when faced with the price tag of his own life.

Zhou Zishu should have known that, he thinks, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking down at his...his Han Ying, whatever else he is to him now. It's not fair that he looks so peaceful in his healing slumber when Zhou Zishu is sure his own pulse still hasn't slowed from the clawing panic underneath his skin these past few terrible, frenetic days.

Wu Xi assured him that the little fool will be fine, and should wake any time now. Zishu is reluctant to leave his side before then. Which is convenient, because Wen Kexing of all people has snubbed him, refusing to have a civil conversation until he's "done right by Ying'er" and refusing to even let him at their own disciple.

What the hell did Wen Kexing get out of Han Ying when he was dying, anyway?

It doesn't matter. What matters is that he didn't die.

Zishu perhaps deserves whatever passing ire Lao Wen wants to throw him on behalf of Han Ying who is too...Han Ying to do it himself.

Curling his hand around the still one at rest, reassuring himself of its continued warmth, Zishu watches the blanket rise and fall steadily in the afternoon sunlight.

Perhaps Han Ying was foolish, but if the servant is a fool than the master is bound to be a bigger one. And he was an absolute fool to send him away, to think that if he just tried hard enough, he could truly push Han Ying out of his life and into his own, somewhere off the road to hell. He was a fool to think Han Ying wouldn't just throw himself down that path all the harder. He would burn himself out like a star for Zishu at a moment's notice, even if he believed Zishu didn't care about him at all anymore.

What would Zishu do, if their roles were reversed?

What hasn't he threatened to do for Lao Wen, for Chengling? What hasn't he already done in this life?

For the one who has never so much as faltered a single step, no matter where Zishu led? For the one who tempted him longer than he ever should have allowed? For the one he can rely on at the worst of himself? He knows the answer already.

Han Ying shifts, just slightly, but Zishu can feel the movement ripple on the bed and he is prepared for the groggy, "...Zhuangzhu?"

He has had long enough to contemplate his response.

He lifts Han Ying's hand in his own and without preamble presses a kiss directly to the back of it, holding it through Han Ying's flinch and sharp indrawn breath. Han Ying's other hand is raised as if to do something and he takes advantage of it, drawing that one in for its own display of affection.

Through it all he keeps eye contact, watching the journey of Han Ying's face--mouth open just slightly, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and then narrow, calculating too much on a mind too fresh from sleep.

"I owe you two, Ying'er," Zishu offers simply.

Han Ying's face is red but he's always been a bit quicker than Zishu expects. "I don't get anything for almost dying?" he manages with a hoarse voice.

Zishu snorts. "No. You know well that I don't reward such folly." Then before Han Ying can get comfortable, he leans in closer, lets his gaze flicker down and back up with intention. Waits for the exact moment he sees the disbelief register and says, "But this is for waking up."

It's probably a reckless, ridiculous thing to do, ducking in to set his mouth against Han Ying's and forever changing something that nobody asked to be changed. But Zishu's life is full of reckless, ridiculous things now, and he can hardly claim it's the worst he's ever done. It doesn't even rank in the top fifty. He kisses him firmly, unapologetic, freeing his hands to cup Han Ying's face between them.

He doesn't stop until Han Ying no longer tastes of salt. He pulls back, hands dropping to cover the ones tangled desperately in the front of Zishu's robes.

Nonsensically, Han Ying mutters, eyes closed, "One."

[kabishkat19]

Disney Villain’s kids : would’s and wouldn’t’s II

Part two of villains who would and wouldn’t have children.

11. Hades

Original hades had children and I feel this one would have too.

12. Shan Yu

No doubt in my mind that not only did this man have kids but some of them were in the battle of the mountains with him.

13. Claude Frollo

I refuse to believe that anyone willingly had children with this man.

14. Clayton

Tarzan series revealed a woman that had relations with Clayton and it would be on brand for this man to have kids that he dumped in a boarding school and never see again.

15. Yzma

If Yzma did have children, they are fully adults at this point and she clearly has no care them. It’s possible, her prime years are unknown.

16. Dr Facilier

This man seemed like to towns pariah so probably couldn’t have kids even if he did want them.

17. Mother Gothel

No. And before you say it I know about Cas (Tangled series) but I still refuse to believe this narcissistic woman would have a child without some sort of magical benefit.

18. Prince Hans of the Southern Isles

There was a chance he could have had kids but after his take over stunt, he’s outcasted.

Tell me if there’s more you wanna see…

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

[slashingdisneypasta]

Disney Villains Only being able to Speak their First Language to Eachother

Hey fellow Hetalians (No such thing as an ex-Hetalian, y'all know that), remember that post about all the characters only being able to speak their countries official languages for a day?? And the chaos that would've ensued?? This is inspired by that post XD

Imagine the Disney Villains getting hexed by like, Mama Odie or Merryweather or Merlin or someone, so they can all only speak and understand their first language for a month.

Yes. A whole month.

The Toon Patrol are seriously struggling because Greasy keeps talking really fast Spanish at them but the rest have no idea what he's saying. Eventually Smartass decides to lock him in a separate room until this can be figured out and you can just hear banging and vague Spanish coming out the crack.

Ernesto is trying to figure out what some of the English speakers are saying because every 11th word is kinda familiar and they speak slow (Especially the rotund, yodelling fellow) but he keeps getting distracted by this faint Spanish yelling coming from another room.

Hades and Jafar stand off to the side near a wall just watching all the mess. They cant understand each other of course but no one else can understand them either so there's really nothing else to do. Hades will occasionally point something out, like Gaston leaning his sweaty arm on Frollo's shoulder and Frollo struggling to not buckle under the weight, and they'll chuckle. (Yes, laughter. The universal language XD)

Speaking of the French speakers-- they're suffering. Frollo hates his fellow French speakers for all being such sinners, Lady Tremaine hates the others because they're idiots or they have too much attitude towards her (*Cough* mal), Maleficent looks down on them all because they're all magic-less plebs, Edgar hates them because they all have money, and Gaston keeps talking about himself and someone is going to hit him. But they all try to keep it together, keep it classy, though most of them have elected to just not talk except for Gaston.

The oddest pairing is probably Hans and Ursula. She speaks Danish, or a dialect similar to it, and he is either Norwegian or Icelandic. If he's Norwegian, they're trying to figure out what the other is saying. Its mostly Ursula flirting with him and him carefully deciphering her words... and then facepalming. ikke til å tro (Unbelievable). But she keeps making like she has something important to tell him, like how to fix this huge predicament, and he keeps falling for it XD

Hilda and Mother Gothel speak German together and basically check out of this mess- like, do they want to understand what insanity Gaston and Jafar are saying again?? Or Frollo?? Haha, No...

Scroop speaks a harsh alien dialect and Silver's just standing next to him like yeah, yeah... you know i dont understand a word you're saying? *... realises scroop cant understand him either and sighs* Ahhh... *Rubs the bridge of his nose*

Rourke approaches the Horned King, curious why he's just standing there doing nothing and gets a string of growly Welsh and promptly... leaves... Like nope. Not today. That crap sounded like an ancient curse and that is not on todays schedule, thanks.

Clayton claims to have visited half these countries (Truth) and could figure out what many of the other villains are saying if he wanted (Exaggeration) so Cruella's like okay great... go and Captain Hook's like that's marvelous! go ahead then my good fellow!. He goes up to Shan Yu and immediately fails.

Shan Yu is usually pretty quiet around the other villains, so him standing there unreadable though faintly amused by them all is... not out of the ordinary XDD

If you have more to add, please feel free! XD

[buddhismnow]

Morning Meditation — How to sit in meditation.

Morning Meditation — How to sit in meditation. https://wp.me/pFy3u-84X

‘How to sit in meditation, no one knows. The solitary moon shines on the icy pool, but in the pool there is no moon.’ Han Shan Strawberry tree (Planika obecná (Arbutus unedo) On our Twitter account, Buddhism Now @Buddhism_Now, most mornings we post a ‘morning meditation’ like the one above. Click here to read more Morning Meditation posts. On the net, of course, it’s morning, afternoon,…