"A river collapses thrice a year, filling my eyes with endless white."
"People resemble birds on the sands, their dwellings as fleeting as driftwood."
The Upper Envoy stood by the riverbank, reciting these lines with a drawn-out melody.
Below the embankment, the Huang River battered the shore, spraying like rain, its froth splashing onto the fluttering robes and staining them with dark patches.
The Upper Envoy was unfazed by the stains; he walked along the bank, accompanied by dozens of officials and clerks.
"I had read Lord Qiu's 'Waterway Outline' when I came, which says, 'The land here is poor and crooked, with long winds and mighty waves constantly pounding its base. Not only do the residents live in constant fear, but they also seem to be competing with the sea for territory.' Seeing and hearing it today, I realize his words were no exaggeration."
