A gentle stream meanders through the mossy stones, whispering secrets to the ancient pines. Under the silver moonlight, a lone fisherman’s boat drifts, its lantern flickering like a fallen star. On the bank, plum blossoms scatter their fragrance upon the breeze, as if painting the night with invisible ink. An old tale lingers here—of a poet who once traded his words for a cup of wine, leaving his verses to dance upon the water’s surface. Now, the current carries echoes of his songs, blending ...
