Incense stirs in golden burners beneath shadowed dragon heads. Jade pendants chime as pheasant-tail fans rise.…
Incense stirs in golden burners beneath shadowed dragon heads. Jade pendants chime as pheasant-tail fans rise.
When the bells sound, the grand rites begin. When they end and the crowd disperses, all grows quiet.
People say palace halls have no feelings, yet who can tell what they have witnessed in silence?
Wind slips through the eaves, lightly playing an echo that spans a thousand autumns. Roof beasts lower their gaze, as if murmuring of rise and ruin across the ages.