In Yuzhou there was a river called the Sanhua River.
The river was several li wide, running west to east across Yuzhou.
Both banks were thick with flower groves nourished by the earth’s qi; the blossoms never withered through the seasons, always taking turns to bloom.
All year round the surface of the river would be strewn with petals, hence its name.
Midway along the Sanhua, on a range of hills to the north bank, palaces and pavilions rose in serried ranks.
Towers echoed each other across the distance; sheets of glazed tiles looked like drifting clouds in the sky, following the river’s course for a hundred li.
This was the Tianwu Palace newly built by Xuan Ao — her residence in Yuzhou.
It was the dead of night, yet Tianwu Palace burned bright with lights.
Countless palace maids and eunuchs hurried to and fro, busy with some unknown affair.
On the south side of Tianwu Palace, by the Sanhua, there was a line of docks.
Several huge painted barges floated on the river, pink lanterns turning the water below a soft glow, lighting up shoals of fish, turtles, and crabs.
The barges were linked by planks.
Men and women ran between them, shouting and singing; their cups never ran dry of wine.