The Kui Pavilion was brilliantly lit, its five-storey structure illuminating the night.
The large ship, riding the long wind, glided over the complex wave patterns, drifting through the moonlight as if in flight.
Liang Qu arrived at the very front of the deck to face the wind and gaze afar.
Thin, silken strains of singing suddenly soared through the traveling wind, circling plaintively a few times before flying off with the night breeze towards the Great Marsh.
Liang Qu turned his head to look.
At the mouth of the Guolong River in Pingyang Prefecture, the orange glow was soft and spread far and wide.
Bamboo poles that ferried guests across the river pierced the full moon, while the pole workers on the small boats appeared and disappeared among the river's many painted barges.
The boatwoman, cradling a pipa, sat alone at the bow singing a tune; the river wind gently lifted her skirt and hair as if she might fly away with the breeze at any moment.
