As the boat passed Runzhou, rain wove itself into a gauzy curtain. Su Shi leaned against the railing, his blue robe dampened by the drizzle. He tapped the rail with his knuckles and recited half a line: "We walked together to bid farewell on Zheng Plain, both dreading the long road through snow and mud..."
Before he could finish, Wang Fu chuckled behind him. "Husband, reciting old poems again? And here I thought you were done with 'The Great River Flows East.'"
He turned around. Inside the cabin, Su Mai was leaning on the windowsill, his little head dotted with raindrops as he watched the gulls circling over the river. Wang Fu handed him a handkerchief. "I was sorting through the trunks the other day and found your copy of Records of the Journey South. The ink has all gone damp."
"It's nothing." Su Shi took the handkerchief, his gaze drifting outside the cabin...
