The Spirit River shimmered with a faint blue light, and the branches of the ancient trees along the bank swayed gently in the breeze.
Li Bai lay quietly in Wang Zhaojun's lap, his face as pale as paper. His tightly closed eyes lacked their usual brilliance, and his white robes, soaked with night dew, made him look all the more desolate.
After a long night, the horizon began to turn a pale grey, yet Li Bai still showed no sign of waking.
Chapter 152