It was night.
The night spread like a great curtain over the countryside, silencing everything so profoundly that not even the chirp of insects could be heard, as if the world were plunged into eternal slumber. Yet, glancing downwards, in many places, one would find pockets of liveliness, as though they were the muttered dreams of a sleeping earth.
Winter was coming, but the world kept turning.
Over the plains, a large river rushed forth, its waters swirling with broken ice, making a "gurgle, gurgle" sound.
"Creak, creak," wooden boats carefully navigated the river, dodging ice floes and hidden rocks before reaching the docks. The poor laborers at the docks, dressed in thin garments, surged onto the wooden ships under the glow of lanterns, laboriously moving goods out of the holds, transferring them piece by piece onto waiting carriages.
