This winter in Old Dunling is a bit abnormal. It's clearly that time of year, yet the sky is still relentlessly overcast, with endless light rain falling, breaking into countless strands that lash down on the city.
The citizens are also irritated by this unceasing gloom; it can't help but call to mind the long, long downpours of the rainy season this past midsummer.
Shao Liangxi stands under the eaves by the roadside, watching the raindrops patter down in front of her.
The Iron Whales cruise at low altitude between the buildings, their bodies bearing huge gas tanks swollen with light gases. Bloated, they blot out the sky and block the falling rain along with it. So on the streets you get this rather wondrous sight: pedestrians shrouded in shadow are briefly spared the curtain of rain by the passing Iron Whale, forming a strange vacuum in the middle of the street.
