Where Fate Ends《缘与结》
It’s New Year’s! — which means it’s time to begin the challenge. For the past three days, I’ve been working on the lyrics for my new song:
This post is a look into why I wrote it, what I wanted to improve from my previous release, and how poetry shaped the imagery in this song.
Where Fate Ends 《缘与结》
When I started writing the song, there were a few things I knew I wanted to do better than before.
1. Vocals
In Reunited 《再续前缘》, the vocals were recorded in fragments and pieced together after correcting flaws. While the result sounded acceptable, it made the song difficult to sing comfortably. That didn’t sit right with me.
I love singing — and I wanted to write a song that could breathe naturally, one that respected the human voice instead of fighting it.
2. Melody
I wanted an R&B track that blends classic Chinese instruments with modern production — and East-meets-West sound. Early drafts leaned too far in one direction or the other, so finding balancing became a priority.
3. Storytelling
再续前缘 lacked a clear journey. The ideas were there, but the imagery wasn’t. This time, I wanted listeners to be able to step into a world and move through it with the song.
Why I wrote 《缘与结》
The song began as a light-hearted response to something heavy.
My best friend sent me a breakup letter he had written to his ex-girlfriend. He was going through a rough time, and I’ve never been particularly good at comforting people. Half-jokingly, I told him I’d write a song to immortalize his pain — even if their love couldn’t last.
But his letter stayed with me.
It was restrained, honest, and deeply moving. He wrote about regret and grief, but more importantly, about acceptance — how neither of them was truly at fault, and how moving on was the only way forward.
His choice of words carried so much emotion that I could feel it myself.
Those emotions became the foundation of this song.
Lyrical direction
There are lyricists I’ve admired for as long as I can remember.
方文山 shaped how I understand poetic structure and imagery in pop music. His lyrics create emotional landscapes.
小寒 taught me attention to detail — how precision can often say more than excess.
They’re towering figures in Chinese pop lyricism. I’m nowhere near that height, but I know which direction I’m climbing.
With that in mind, the goal became clear: to write a song that carries my friend’s emotions with care, while remaining poetic and grounded.
I’m no 李白 — so I leaned to the tools available to me. Through research and exploration, I eventually came across 《钗头凤》, a poem written by 陆游 and later answered by his lover 唐婉.
That exchange — love, separation, restraint, and dignity — became the emotional and visual compass for 《缘与结》.
Why I write Mandarin songs
One of the many reasons I choose to write songs in Mandarin — even though it isn’t my mother tongue — is simply because I think it is a beautiful language.
From my perspective, 文言文 isn’t just literature; it’s art. A single line can hold layers of meaning that unfold depending on who is reading it.
Take this phrase for example:
梦里不知身是客
To scholars who understand the historical context behind the poem, this line carries interpretation. But for someone encountering it for the first time, it can also mean something else entirely — and that’s what I love: neither interpretation is “wrong.”
When I first read it, my understanding was more literal:
“I walked into a dream, not realizing I was only a guest.”
It’s simple, but it isn’t incorrect. If anything, it shows what makes Mandarin poetry so powerful: a line can be both precise and open-ended. Meaning can be shared, but it can also be personal.
And that’s why I want to write Mandarin songs — because every phrase can contain many meanings, and every lyrics can hold multiple truths at once.
《缘与结》 — Writing with multiple meanings
For 《缘与结》, I wanted to borrow meaning from the scholarly interpretation of the poem, while also adding my own emotional lens.
Instead of trying to “translate” my friend’s emotions directly — which I could never do perfectly — I wrote from my own point of view, while preserving the spirit the spirit of what he wrote.
To do that, I turned to the poem that inspired the foundation of this song.
This time, we begin with 陆游‘s version of 《钗头凤》：
红酥手，黄縢酒，满城春色宫墙柳。
东风恶，欢情薄，一怀愁绪，几年离索，错！错！错！
春如旧，人空瘦，泪痕红浥鲛绡透。
桃花落，闲池阁，山盟虽在，锦书难托，莫！莫！莫！
Creative process: Finding “objects” （方文山 approach)
One thing I’ve always admired about 方文山’s writing — and my favorite artist 周杰伦’s music — is how often a song is built around a single object.
Examples like:
《黑色毛衣》
《青花瓷》
《发如雪》
Even when the “object” isn’t literal, it still anchors the world of the song, like:
”只恋你化身的蝶“
So if I wanted to write in a similar direction, I had to do what he does:
identify objects inside the poem, and build imagery around them.
From 《钗头凤》, I extracted these nouns and symbols:
凤、钗、手、酒、春、宫墙、柳、桃花、锦书
and the color 红、黄
Once I had these building blocks, I asked myself:
What imagery can connect this poem to my friend’s letter?
Why I chose red
In Chinese culture, red often symbolizes celebration, romance, and weddings — it’s auspicious, but also emotionally charged. It also connects naturally to the legend of 月老的红线: the red thread of fate.
Then there was the color yellow — gold.
In the original poem, 黄縢酒 doesn’t mean “gold hairpin,” but as a songwriter, I wanted to transform the color imagery into a tangible object: something you can hold, wear, and remember.
That’s how I arrived at:
金凤钗
In traditional weddings, the bride may wear a 凤冠, and the 凤钗 becomes an extension of that imagery — something beautiful and ceremonial… and tragic once the marriage collapses.
“酒” and the three cups （黄縢酒 → 交杯酒 → 三拜礼 → 借酒消愁）
The next object that stood out strongly was:
酒
Wine isn’t just a drink in Chinese culture — it represents ceremony, formality, and relationships. That made me think of 交杯酒 and 三拜礼.
I imagined a scene where the bride drinks three cups — not as celebration, but as replacement: a bitter echo of a ceremony that never gets fulfilled.
It becomes:
a ceremony
a farewell
and a form of 借酒消愁
That gave me my direction.
“Writing on the wall” without saying it
《钗头凤》is famous partly because it was written on a wall.
I wanted that element in the song, but I didn’t want to literally say “writing on the wall.” It would sound too direct, too modern.
So I used objects that fit the historical setting — and also reference 锦书 in the original poem:
婚书、信纸、印章
Instead of “墙,” it becomes a marriage document — a place where a seal should have landed, but never did.
From “伏笔” to ”一行又一行“
There’s a word in Chinese songwriting that I’m deeply attached to:
伏笔
It’s subtle and beautiful — like an unseen thread guiding destiny.
I used it directly in 再续前缘 before, but for 缘与结, I wanted to echo that feeling without repeating the word.
So I replaced it with action:
你写了一行又一行
It mirrors the act of 陆游 writing line after line with raw emotion — the same way my friend must have felt when he wrote his letter.
And this line follows naturally:
墨色晕开了旧伤
Ink bleeding into paper becomes a metaphor for wounds reopening — which connects to 唐婉’s pain as well. Imagine discovering those words and feeling everything rush back.
Restraint: Why I chose “咽”
One emotional priority in this song was restraint.
There is regret. There is grief. But there is no hatred — only acceptance.
That’s why I wrote:
不怪天，不怪地
不怪我，不怪你
I wanted the feeling of 三拜礼:
一拜天地 — hence “天地”
At the same time, 天地 also references 过往.
Not blaming heaven or earth, not blaming the past — and not blaming either of us.
To show restraint rather than dramatic sorrow, I chose:
咽
Not just swallowing tears, but swallowing what you want to say — a painful kind of composure.
The ending: Blessing without bitterness
The toast sequence represents maturity:
One for the pain
Two for what remains
Three for what I couldn’t say
It’s not “I forgive you” in a perfect way. It’s more realistic:
I can’t force myself to wish you well,
but I also can’t say anything cruel.
So the final line becomes:
我说了珍重, you whispered the same.
A quiet goodbye.
Putting myself in 唐婉’s shoes
When writing this song, I kept asking myself:
If I were 唐婉… how would I feel reading that poem?
陆游 and 唐婉 did not separate due to lack of love. Their story is tragic because love remained — and the ending was still inevitable.
If I were her, I think I would mourn, remember, feel mocked by fate… but still offer blessing.
That’s why I wrote:
缠在发丝的红线是谁偷偷解开了结
This references 结发夫妻 — the tradition of tying strands of hair with a red thread and placing them into a silk pouch.
Melody as emotion: grief → acceptance
Finally, I wanted the melody itself to reflect emotional change.
The verses are sung differently and carry a slightly different melodic shape. To me, this represents 唐婉’s emotional arc:
sadness → shock → remembering → regret → resignation → acceptance
Lyric segment (example)
不怨风 不怨雪
那一夜你话没说全
不怨你 不怨我
只是缘分太过含蓄了一点
I let the rain take away what I couldn’t say
泪水决堤湿了我的眼
我在原地把心事咽了又咽
“缘分太过含蓄了一点“ has a double meaning:
1. In the time of 陆游 and 唐婉, Confucian filial piety shaped people’s lives — a fate that often couldn’t be spoken against. This connects to 唐婉’s reply:
世情薄，人情恶，雨送黄昏花易落
2. “含蓄” also means restraint — emotionally reserved, unspoken love. A fate defined not only by destiny, but by silence.
Bridge imagery
红线已松脱
缘分到了终
钗在人成空
各自远走
桃花无声凋落
话也停在风中
就这样放了手
This is where I reference the poem most closely.
红线已松脱 is referencing 红酥手 because the thread is said to be tied around the fingers or hands in some interpretation.
钗在人成空 references 人空瘦 in 陆游’s poem and 人成各 in 唐婉’s reply.
The rest is just imagery I came up with all referencing the poem.
To end this post, I’ve written my own poem as an exercise — a third-person reflection from the future, after knowing the story of 陆游 and 唐婉:
《钗头凤·后人怜》
字犹在，意未改，后人读罢亦生怜。
不是薄，不是恶，相逢非时，世俗为锁，难！难！难！
待来生，逢故人，沈园不题离别词。
冬霜化，见新春，再续前缘，携手白头，祝！祝！祝！