一幅壁畫，引人入夢，真假難辨，情與幻交織成境。
A painted wall opens a dream where love and illusion entwine.
中文
江南有書生朱孝廉，性情溫雅，素喜遊歷。一日與友人同遊古寺，寺宇荒寂，香火稀少，唯壁上彩畫尚存。畫中仕女衣袂飄飄，神態生動，似有靈氣。
朱生凝視其中一女子，只覺其眉目含情，宛若活人。看得久了，心神漸失，忽然眼前一暗，再睜眼時，已身在畫中。
眼前乃一幽深庭院，花影搖曳，樓閣隱約。那女子正立於花間，微笑相迎。她自稱名為秋容，言語柔和，神情親切。朱生恍若夢中，不知身在何處，唯覺情意綿綿。
兩人日夕相伴，或賞花、或對坐談心。朱生漸生愛慕，情難自抑。秋容亦似有所動，卻常流露憂色。她低聲道：「此地非人間，君不宜久留。」
朱生不以為意，只願長留此境。忽一日，庭中忽然鐘聲大作，眾女子驚散。秋容面色蒼白，急道：「守者將至，速避！」未及言畢，一老尼忽現，目光如電，怒斥：「凡人擅入，當逐！」
朱生驚恐，四顧無路。秋容將他推入一處暗門，低聲道：「記我。」語畢消失。朱生只覺天旋地轉，再醒時，已立於寺中壁前。
友人驚見其神情恍惚，連聲呼喚。朱生回望壁畫，女子依舊靜立其中，神情冷淡，似未曾相識。他欲再入，卻無門可尋。
自此之後，朱生魂不守舍，日夜思念。然無論再看多久，畫中再無異動。唯有夜深夢回，似聞秋容輕聲嘆息。
後人言：畫中之境，本為幻象，情之所至，幻亦成真；然一旦醒來，萬象皆空。唯餘一念，難以磨滅。
English Version
In the southern region lived a scholar named Zhu, gentle in nature and fond of wandering. One day, he visited an ancient, half-forgotten temple with a friend. The place was silent, its incense long extinguished, yet a mural upon the wall remained vivid.
The painting depicted elegant maidens in flowing robes, lifelike and radiant. Zhu found himself drawn to one figure in particular—her expression soft, her gaze almost aware.
As he stared, the world dimmed.
When his vision cleared, he was no longer in the temple.
He stood within a secluded courtyard, surrounded by blossoms and drifting light. The maiden approached him, smiling. She introduced herself as Qiurong. Her voice was warm, her presence comforting.
Days seemed to pass like moments. They walked together, spoke softly beneath flowering trees, and shared a quiet intimacy. Zhu fell deeply in love, forgetting entirely the world he had left behind.
Yet Qiurong often seemed troubled. “This place is not for the living,” she warned gently. “You should not remain.”
Zhu refused to leave.
Then one day, a sudden bell rang through the air. Panic spread among the maidens. Qiurong grasped his hand, fear in her eyes. “The keeper comes. You must go!”
Before he could respond, an old nun appeared, her gaze sharp and unforgiving. “A mortal does not belong here.”
The world collapsed.
Zhu felt himself pulled away, the courtyard dissolving into shadow.
He awoke before the mural.
His friend shook him, relieved yet bewildered. Zhu turned to the painting. The maiden stood as before—still, distant, unrecognizing.
No trace of their shared moments remained.
He returned again and again, hoping to reenter that hidden world—but the wall remained silent.
Yet in his dreams, he sometimes heard her voice… faint, lingering.
And so it is said:
Illusions may feel like truth when the heart believes—but once broken, they leave only longing behind.
