We have laughed, enjoyed, cried and wept along with the characters and although the actors and actresses gave their best, we feel a little cheated on with regards to the ending so please, find it in your hearts to hear our plea for a PART 2 with a happy ending.
Faith has always enjoyed movies and TV shows from swoon-worthy period dramas to heart-stopping action-adventure flicks. Her love of Korean dramas started a few years ago when she binge-watched a 62 episode period K-drama and fell in love. She also has a passion for writing stories. Even as a young teenager she entertained her sisters
with episodic superhero adventures. Now she spends her time working,
blogging, sewing, juggling several novels, and watching her favorite
shows, mainly K-dramas. You can visit her blog at:
www.justwaytooboss.blogspot.com
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Since I had watched the Chinese version of Scarlet Heart I knew how the story ended, but frankly, I liked the ending of the Chinese version better because he (the 4th prince) does show up at the museum exhibit in modern times and she does see him. Even if the Korean version still never had a sequel, if it had ended in that way it would have given all of us fans a heart-felt hopeful ending. In that way the Korean version is a disappointment.
Yeah, I thought it was much better as a light-hearted drama with a touch of seriousness like it was in the first half. Like you said, the second half just made me roll my eyes a lot. Like seriously, you all take yourselves WAY too dang seriously. Chill out.
Right at the beginning of Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo ( - ) (SBS, 2016), we see Hae-Soo (IU) heartbroken at this place. When she tries to save a boy from drowning, she is herself drawn into the lake and ends up in Goryeo.
Think too of the many heads, old and young, beautiful and mean, wept over, not joyously indeed; nay, who knows with what agony, yet at least with love unflecked by any wandering mote of the memory of shame or shrinking; think of the many who, though they fought not at all with spear or sword, yet did, indeed, bear the brunt of many a battle, in patiently waiting through heart-sickening watchings, yet never losing hope, in patiently bearing unutterable misery of separation, yet never losing faith.
For Gertha was not within; but from the wood she had seen the glimmer of his arms in the hot noontide, and came down, stately and slow, unmoved to look on, but her heart of hearts wavering within her with hope and fear and ecstasy of love: perhaps (O poor heart, what wild hope!) it might be the king.
The crimson blood rushed up over her face, then went to her heart again, leaving her very lips grey. She paused a moment, with her arms stretched straight down, and her hands clenched: she said, without looking up:
Yet never for a moment did they doubt but that their people would in the end prevail over the enemies that hemmed them in, whatever became of those 20,000 left alive there on the plain; and Barulf spoke to the better part of all their hearts, when he said:
Sebald made no answer; his eyes were dry, his throat was dry, his heart was dry with intense thinking if by any means he could extend his vengeance beyond the present world. He thought of all the curses he had ever heard; how meaningless and uninventive they all seemed when set beside his hatred! he thought so that I know not into what uttermost hell he had dragged his own heart; he certainly did not feel as if he were on earth; his head grew dizzy, he could scarcely walk under his burden, but somehow between them they managed to get the body into the tent unperceived.
Now the archers were more numerous than the horsemen, and, though not so well armed, fought stoutly, throwing away their bows and using their axes and swords, nor did they find out their mistake till many were slain both of horsemen and archers, and even then they were quite ready to go on with that work from sheer rage and vexation of heart; but restraining themselves, and being restrained by their leaders, they got separated somehow, and marched back to their own quarters, where one and all swore that they would stay, nor move again that night for man or Devil, whatever happened.
She came from the midst of that knot of Lords that had clustered about her, and with her dark hair loose, stood in the balcony above the people, and through the hearts of all thrilled her clear speech.
Shakeel told himself that he would return to his camp in the morning and no one would notice his absence. His laden heart would be lightened and grief would lift its dark shadow from his soul. Driven by these thoughts, crying and weeping, Shakeel headed into the wilderness, at every step shedding ears from his unrequited heart. He recited the verses:
As the Judge loped down the hot turnpike after hisdistant wagon, his son turned for one more gaze on theyoung hero, his hero henceforth, and felt the blood rushfrom every vein to his heart and back again as Mr.Ravenel at the last moment looked round and waved himfarewell. Later he recalled Major Garnet's offer of hisdaughter, but:
In the bright parlor the talk was still on public affairs.The war was over, but its issues were still largely insuspense and were not questions of boundaries ordynasties; they underlay every Southern hearthstone;the possibilities of each to-morrow were the personalconcern and distress of every true Southern man, ofevery true Southern woman.
He drifted into revery. Thoughts came so out ofharmony with this line of reasoning that he could onlydismiss them as vagaries. Was sleep returning? No,he laid wide awake, frowning with the pain of his wound.Yet he must have drowsed at last, for when suddenly hesaw his wife standing, draped in some dark wrapping,hearkening at one of the open windows, the moon wassinking.
But at last he ceased even this and sat down at theedge of the stony road ready to cry. His bosom hadindeed begun to heave, when in an instant all waschanged. Legs forgot their weariness, the heart itsdismay, for just across the road, motionless beside ahollow log, what should he see but a cotton-tail rabbit.As he stealthily reached for his weapon the cotton-tailtook two slow hops and went into the log. Chargebayonets! - pat-pat-pat - slam! and the stick rattled inthe hole, the deadly iron at one end and the deadly boy atthe other.
Small wonder that he dreamed. Much of the stuff thatfables and fairy tales are made of was the actualfurnishment of his visible world - unbroken leagues oflofty timber that had never heard the ring of an axe;sylvan labyrinths where the buck and doe were only halfafraid; copses alive with small game; rare openings wherethe squatter's wooden ploughshare lay forgotten; darkchasms scintillant with the treasures of the chemist, if notof the lapidary; outlooks that opened upon great seas ofbillowing forest, whence blue mountainspeered up, sank and rose again like ocean monsters atplay; glens where the she-bear suckled her drowsing cubs to theplash of yeasty waterfalls that leapt and whimpered to be inhuman service, but wherein the otter played all day unscared;crags where the eagle nested; defiles that echoed the howl ofwolves unhunted, though the very stones cried out their opensecret of immeasurable wealth; narrow vales where the mountaincabin sent up its blue thread of smoke, and in its lonely patchstrong weeds and emaciated corn and cotton pushed one anotherdown among the big clods; and vast cliffs from whose bushybrows the armed moonshiner watched the bridle-path below.
Not so thought John that same hour. Servants'delinquencies had kept him from Sunday-school thatmorning and made him late at church. His mother hadstayed at home with her headache and her husband.Her son was hesitating at the churchyard gate,alone and heavy-hearted, when suddenly he saw a thingthat brought his heart into his throat and made a certainold mortification start from its long sleep with a greatinward cry. Two shabby black men passed by on plough-mules,and between them, on a poor, smart horse, all storeclothes, watch-chain, and shoe-blacking, rode thepresident of the Zion Freedom Homestead League, Mr.Corneilius Leggett, of Leggettstown. John went in.Fannie, seemingly fresh from heaven, stood behind themelodeon and sang the repentant prodigal's resolve; andhe, in raging shame for the stripes once dealt him, the liethey had scared from him at the time, and the many hehad told since to cover that one, shed such tears that hehad to steal out, and, behind a tree in the rear of thechurch, being again without a handkerchief, dry hischeeks on his sleeves.
One, or even two, can rarely get as much into a burstedcarpet-bag, repacking it in a public road and perspiringwith the fear that somebody is coming, as they can into asound one at a time and place of their own choice. There'sno place like home - for this sort of task; albeit theJudge's home may have been an exception. Time flew pastwhile they contrived and labored, and even when theyseemed to have solved their problem one pocket of John'strousers contained a shirt and the other was full of socks,and the Judge's heart still retained an anxiety which hedared neither wholly confess nor entirely conceal.
THE air was mild down on the main road which,because it led from Suez to Pulaski City, was known asthe Susie and Pussie pike. The highway showed a meredusting of snow, and out afield the sun had saidgood-morning so cavalierly to some corn-shocks that thepowder was wholly kissed off one sallow cheek of each.The riders kept the pike northwesterly a short way andthen took the left, saying less and less as they went on,till the college came into view, their hearts sinking as itrose.
The child followed, while John and his father stoodwith captive hearts before her whom the youths of thecollege loved to call in valedictory addresses the Rose ofRosemont. She spent a few moments with them, holdingJohn's more than willing hand, and then called in theprincipal's first assistant, Mr. Dinwiddie Pettigrew, asmallish man of forty, in piratical white duck trousers, kidslippers, nankeen sack, and ruffled shirt. Irritabilityconfessed itself in this gentleman's face, which was of aclay color, with white spots. Mr. Pettigrew presentlydeclared himself a Virginian, adding, with the dignity of afallen king, that he - or his father, at least - had lost overa hundred slaves by the war. It was their all. But the boycould not shut his ear to the sweet voice of Mrs. Garnetas, at one side, she talked to his father. 006ab0faaa
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