The late autumn North Asian coast was filled with a sense of desolation. The shore was lined with withered yellow trees, and the distance held a deep forest. The sky was a gloomy gray, and the sea was a tranquil gray-white. A rare three-decked ocean-blocking ship of the North was lowering all five of its sails, anchored by the river's edge on the coast. This quiet Tang Ship stood in silent contrast to the nearby bustling camp of the Ewenki people, exuding a sense of chill and solitude.
"Frost falls on the plains, Luwei is cold. Far from home, I hold my sleeves tight, yet drift further to the North..."
