Midnight, several ladies had already fallen asleep. On the stone table in the courtyard was a pitcher of sour plum soup made that evening, meant to dispel the heat of this late May night.
The Taiyin hung in the sky...
In the blind boy's vision, the pure white lines of the daytime had long vanished, replaced by what seemed to be ink diluted by clear water, flowing freely in threads upon the canvas of the sky, enveloping the boundless world below.
White was Yang.
Black was Yin.
Yang was life.
Yin was death.
Song Cheng had long become familiar with this black and white ink-wash world, having comprehended its essence deep within.
Without eyes of flesh, unable to witness the colorful, bustling human world, he could still glimpse Yin and Yang with greater clarity.
This perhaps was the meaning of the "Heart's Eye."