The snow still had not stopped, falling flake by flake, layer upon layer... At the summit of this snow-capped mountain, perpetually covered in snow, even the air felt desolate. Yet human hearts burn hot; otherwise, how could one contend with the cold and loneliness?
Drunk, we leave the parting pavilion and head west; a floating life forever laments the drifting duckweed. Looking back, the misty willows grow thicker and thicker. Pale clouds and a solitary wild goose in the distance; the cold sun reddens the evening sky. Where are the painted boats tonight? The tide is calm, the Huai River moon hazy. Awaking from wine, people are quiet, unable to bear the heavy sorrow. A dim lamp, a solitary pillow, a dream; light waves and a fifth-watch wind.
Muyin had been severely injured this time, and three days had passed while she still remained fast asleep.
Chapter 29