On the Qinhuai River, ten miles of lamps and flames, ears filled with pipes and song.
Old Ears had gone back to the cabin to drink; Chen Ji still sat on the gunwale. Pleasure boats coming head-on slid past one another; a woman behind a window pointed at Chen Ji and laughed softly: "Look at him, he doesn't drink, he's actually sitting at the bow of the boat letting the wind blow on him."
The drinkers at her table turned to look, bursting into laughter.
Chen Ji paid it no mind, letting the light river breeze stir his robes. He raised his hand, feeling the cool night wind slip past his fingertips, and thought this was a rare kind of ease.
Footsteps sounded behind him; Ping Zhao also came to the bow, smiling as she said, "This is the first time someone has come onto my boat and neither drunk nor asked for news."
