On the morning of the seventeenth day of the first month, Pei Ye walked out from the side gate of the Great Ming Palace. He greedily and deeply inhaled the cold air of this winter day, like someone trapped in a jar for a month. Then he quickly took a few steps, leapt lightly like an antelope, and landed inside the blue curtains of a carriage. The vehicle shook slightly before starting to move forward.
As the river opens after the seventh ninth, and swallows come by the eighth ninth. Spring hadn't arrived yet, but the scents had begun to escape from some quiet places, with the fresh fragrance of willow buds, the faint fishy scent by the river, and the droppings and loose feathers of birds. Yue Muzhou, who was once blind, had told Pei Ye that each season had its own distinct aroma in the air, which Pei Ye found quite magical at that time, as his senses were not yet sharp.
