Four hundred li to the southwest lies Yinshan County.
At dusk, with the sun setting like spilling blood.
Birds return to their nests, insects fall silent.
Merchants and peddlers shout one last time, packing up their stalls, as passersby on the road hasten home.
From the nooks of streets and alleys, calls of mothers summon their playful children for dinner.
Above the eaves of every household, wisps of cooking smoke gently rise.
The scene before me represents the rarity of tranquility in this spring day.
But suddenly, a rush of urgent hoofbeats shatters the calm.
A blood-soaked black horse, galloping from outside the city gates like a sudden downpour, bursts through and races down the main street, startling pedestrians and vendors who hastily clear the way amidst a chorus of shocked cries.
