While they were talking, the group had already crossed the lakeside, passed through the small woods, and arrived at the secluded open space under the high wall of the residence.
Though far from the hustle and bustle of the dance, this lawn was not entirely quiet.
Underground crickets hid in the warm, moist layer of humus, singing their monotonous tunes. Golden bell insects hid in the cracks of rocks and hit their melodious chimes. Crickets perched on the long necks of rush grass, sucking dew between sheaths, and strumming wonderful pipa tunes. As for the autumn cicadas, after spending long days, these lucky surviving insects praised this magical world with their songs every minute and every second.
Until the young wizards barged in, startling the autumn insects who were playing their orchestra passionately, and interrupting their concerto.
