In October, it was nearly the beginning of winter.
The Guangyun River's surface began to form a thin layer of ice, and, above the wide expanse of the river, a large ship slowly docked.
A group of people dressed in dark blue cotton robes descended from the deck of the large ship, looking from afar like a line of ants traversing the wilderness, each one moving independently.
By the river, there was a teahouse providing temporary respite, where the owner offered several pots of hot tea and bowls of hot noodles, setting out a few basins of charcoal fires, around which the crowd gradually became lively.
Lin Danqing sneezed and complained, "It's so cold."
Standing beside him, a medical officer consoled, "We'll be passing Mengtai soon. It's colder near the river; once we're past Mengtai, it will be much better."