Wangtianmen Island was a long, narrow river isle covered in trees. Some grew close to the water, while heaps of scattered rocks concealed grass huts and even a few pavilions.
Since the severance of heaven and earth, not only had seekers of the Heavenly Realm frequented this place, but young martial heroes, poets and scholars, and ordinary townsfolk had also come to gaze at the heavens and carve their names into stone. Had it not been nearly evening, with a light autumn rain falling, Ding Songyan and Zheng Zhuxi would surely have seen pleasure boats, long-distance vessels, and even little skiffs heading there.
After examining it carefully with Candle Eyes and Star Pupils, the two looked at each other and shook their heads.
They had found nothing.
Though Wangtianmen Island was said to lie in the middle of the river, it was clearly closer to the Dingjiang Prefecture bank. Across from it stood riverside buildings such as the Ironworks, the fish market, monks' lodgings, and a Daoist temple. Downstream lay the Dock in the east of the city. Now all of them were shrouded in hazy drizzle, lending the scene an added touch of autumn melancholy.
Outside the window, the cold wind sighed bleakly, but the room was warm as spring. Copper pipes ran along the corners and ceiling, giving off gentle waves of heat.
Compared with the surging heat of the heated brick beds north of the river, this circulating warm water was more comfortable and warmed a broader area.
Zheng Zhuxi looked around with considerable curiosity. There was an ivory-adorned bed in the inner room, red curtains beside the window, and screens, carpets, and display cabinets throughout. Everything was exquisite, everything beautiful.
Thick red candles burned quietly, casting an air of lavish, indulgent warmth. Several small incense burners