The long street bustles, as evening smoke sparsely blankets the snow over the Maple Bridge, amidst the road's splendor, plum blossoms and drifting willow fluffs.
Silver City's winter is dazzling and frosty, yet it cannot hide the grandeur and wealth of this ancient city that spans millennia.
A unicorn with fur as white as snow, emitting a radiant brilliance akin to clean celestial stars, pulls a lavish Golden Chariot along a white-stone path, cleared of snow, its hooves clattering.
The poles and flags stretch across the market in endless procession, graceful towers accompany singing and dancing, their steps like lotus blooms.
The Qiao Gate adorned with halberds looks down upon countless wells, gold-tiled towers lean against each other, fully laden with cold lake boats reflected in color.
Baili An pokes his face, as pale as dishwater, out from the carriage window.
He holds a hand to his cheek, his Adam's apple bobbing as if he's about to vomit, yet he forces himself to endure.
