The only person on the ground lay like a dead dog, dressed in prison garb and shackled, his head tilted towards the small window high on the dungeon wall, his pupils dilated, reflecting the dim shadows of the moon.
The moonlight flowed from those withered eyes, washing a bit of death away as it passed through the inns and taverns of Shengjing.
In Renhe Restaurant, the night was bustling with activity.
The restaurant was filled to capacity, buzzing with voices; Du Changqing called for everyone to take their seats at the table, sighing as he looked at the feast laid out before them.
The banquet of the fifteenth of August, only to be eaten in September. Fortunately, although there was no moon to admire, the dishes were still present, so it wasn't a complete waste.
