Compared to the little ditch beside the house, this river was much broader—at least five or six meters wide. It was only shallow because winter had brought low water.
"Back here, I plan to plant peach trees everywhere. In a few years, it'll be a whole peach grove. And here, I'm planning to build a little pavilion out of bricks and wood. When the peach blossoms are in full bloom, we can brew wine, drink tea, and watch the riotous splendor of spring. It'll be wonderful."
"Then I can gather peach blossoms to make wine, too. I just don't know how it'll taste."
"And this platform by the river was specially piled up by me as well. When I have free time, it'll be perfect for fishing. There'll be peach blossoms by the river, and come spring, if the fish eat those blossoms... I wonder whether their flavor might become even better."
"It's winter now. Fishing when it snows should feel pretty good too. 'An old man in a straw cape and bamboo hat, alone he fishes the cold river snow.' There's no boat, no straw cape, and no river—but it's not bad either."
Dusk had already fallen, yet Han Jinyue and Wang Yun both sensed from Zhao Cheng a profound feeling of truly being alive.
It was a feeling that could scarcely be found in those hurried people of the city. The more they thought about it, the more entranced the two became.
At the same time, they suddenly sensed a distant quality from Zhao Cheng. He appeared to be right before their eyes, yet his heart had already gone far away, immersed in that earthly paradise of his own, where he could never again belong to anyone.
For no reason at all, a sense of loss rose in