Birds sang in the misty woods, among delicate blossoms and graceful bamboo.
Beneath the colorful flowering trees, amid a thick carpet of emerald grass, a stream wound its way around in gentle curves.
The water was clear and flowed very slowly. Beneath it, smooth pebbles lay scattered like stones sunk to the bottom of a mirror, gleaming in a dazzling array of colors under the sunlight.
Though it was midsummer, coolness suffused this place, as though it were not of the mortal world.
Five people sat separately beside the stream, with tables before them bearing wine but no food, and maids behind them carrying flowers but no fans.
At the head stood a long, red-lacquered table, with a small bronze bowl upon it. A maid stood beside it holding a little wooden mallet.
A servant presented a somewhat worn bamboo tube. Le Zhan drew a bamboo slip from it, looked at the words written on it, and leisurely recited, "Water Horses at the Great Wall Grotto, Cold Water Chills the Horses' Bones."
He then held the slip in his right hand, supported his right wrist with his left, and showed it to the other four in turn before handing it to the maid holding the mallet.
"These are lines by Chen Kongzhang," he said. "According to Duan Hong's Rhymes Collection, 'bones' belongs to the sixth rhyme group, 'mo.' That means... the first person at the lower end. My wife goes first."
Madam Le looked troubled. "These lines are a little difficult! With clear skies, fresh air, lovely mountains, and beautiful waters, why insist on 'Cold Water Chills the Horses' Bones'...? Besides, going first is what I'm worst at!"
She looked at her husband, blinked, and eagerly suggested, "Why don't we swap seats?"
Madam Le showed a little girlish playfulness, but