On the 8th of April, the silver moon hung in the sky.
The vast river was sparkling, and ferries filled with passengers sailed along the river to the west of Ze Province. The boats were full of lights, reflecting colorful reflections on the water.
On a ship, an old man in simple clothes was sitting on a pile of junk on the deck with a small drum in his hand and telling stories about Jianghu. "Ever since Feng Guancheng was born, all the martial artists in the world have become second-rate…"
Beside him was a chubby girl holding an erhu and matching it to the tune.
Ye Jingtang was dressed in a black robe and a bamboo hat. Like other Jianghu wanderers, he was leaning against the outside of the ship's deckhouse and listening to the familiar stories. The bird was looking eagerly at the vendors hawking in the crowd.
