Sunlight poured onto the river's surface, creating glinting waves.
Sailboats dotted the river, and trees cast cool shades next to Parrot Island.
Under a robust, old willow tree, a white-haired elder sat cross-legged. His clothes were tattered, and his fish drum was worn. Tapping it gently and slowly, he sang in a prolonged tune:
"By the banks of the Miluo River, the loyal souls linger on. The name of Qu Yuan is praised through the ages. He composed poetry with a heavy heart, full of concern for the chaos befalling the court. To awake alone in the Human World is a difficult path. In life, he stood firm; in death, the same..."
The elder spoke in the Mianyang dialect, and his song, "Lament for Qu Yuan," was full of desolation and sorrow. Unfortunately, passersby were in a hurry, only occasionally tossing a copper coin his way.
This place was already the Han Yang Wharf.
