The drumbeats on the Nine Gates City Tower finally stopped, and the lingering sound dragged on in the night wind for a long time before reluctantly dissipating.
The Double Ninth Festival had come and gone, leaving behind only a mess. The curfew turned the vast Imperial Capital into a crouching beast, swallowing all the warmth accumulated during the day in one gulp.
Chen Ji walked alone right in the middle of the empty Andingmen Avenue. The crushed Cornelian fruits were ground into the cracks of the bluestone slabs by footsteps, turning a dark red. Chrysanthemum petals formed a thin layer, in mingled yellow and white. Blown by the wind, they rolled gently along the ground, rustling like whispers from the shadows.
The flickering torchlight on the Anding Gate Tower behind him elongated his shadow, making it appear somewhat thin and desolate.
Chen Ji did not return home because the night's business was not yet over.
