The silvery reeds clustered and swayed in the wind, as fishing boats crisscrossed the open marsh with their sails raised, creating a scene of bustling activity.
"How time flies."
Liang Qu stood at the bow of his boat, gazing at Yixing Town just within sight, filled with endless emotion.
He left in late August and returned in mid-October.
When he departed it was high summer, and now it was autumn. On the low hills behind the town, unbeknownst to anyone, a lofty pavilion had arisen.
The pavilion was yet to be capped, and its beams and columns stood in disarray, but the five-tiered eave corners were already taking shape. Fishermen boating on the marsh could spot it at a glance, and in the hazy mist, it seemed to emanate a scholarly aura.
"The Literature Temple's Kui Pavilion?"
Liang Qu, with his excellent vision, surmised as he observed the style of the pavilion.
