As the year's end draws near, the days grow short; at the world's edge, frost and snow clear from the cold night.
At the fifth watch, drums and horns sound mournful and fierce; the stars reflected in the Three Gorges seem to sway.
The cries of war reach a few homes in the wilderness; fishermen and woodcutters sing songs in the local tongue from scattered places.
The Crouching Dragon and the galloping steed both end as dust; the affairs of humankind linger, yet all is bleak and still.
This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.
