Snowing

The Yangtze River stretched like a white ribbon, the mountains like a painting. The Ancient Era's scenery was still quite splendid.

Golden Mountain was beautiful. An ancient temple lay hidden amid green hills, forests, rocks, and emerald bamboo, its golden glazed tiles gleaming. Ordinary people could not use glazed tiles, as they were reserved for the imperial family. Occasionally, however, a religious sect favored by the court could lay them as well. There were exceptions: Chunyang Palace on Shenhua Mountain still used gray tiles and had never proposed changing them, remaining tranquil, natural, and detached from the mortal world.

During the great river's flood season, the winds were fierce and the waves immense, making the small boat bob and shudder.

The old boatman rowed stroke by stroke, the wood creaking. Bai Yujun looked around and saw many other boats heading to Golden Mountain Courtyard. Some were large, some small. The small ones were canopied boats like this one, while the large ones were all two- or three-story painted boats.

Soaring floodwaters were a calamity for the poor, yet for bored wealthy families, they were a diversion. They rode large boats about, enjoying the sight of river and sky merging into one.

The small boat slowly approached Golden Mountain Courtyard's dock.

The view was beautiful. Of course, it was beautiful because of the River Water and the mountains; those magnificent buildings upon them had merely chosen a fine spot for lavish construction. Whether a place was beautiful depended on its natural scenery. Unfortunately, every place of outstanding beauty was inevitably occupied by sects and religious schools, save for wildernesses such as the Southern Wasteland.

The boat gave a slight jolt and came to a steady stop. Bai Yujun helped Xu Jiaorong carry the jumble of belongings ashore.

The instant she set