Dusk deepened, spreading like ink and shrouding the entire Fengyin Pavilion in a suffocating gloom. Fengyin Pavilion, the renowned pleasure house, was usually filled with the gentle strains of music and bright laughter. But now, an unusual stillness hung over it. …
“Green armor stains the pear blossoms, though none wished it so; red sleeves burn the sky, as the destined hour draws near.”
“The cold pool reflects the mistakes of the past; the seven strings of the guqin sound anew today.”
“One hundred thousand Yin soldiers wave their old banners; three thousand green-armored warriors bear witness to Bodhi.”
