The seventh day of the seventh month. The River God Festival.
It was Gaolin County's grandest annual event.
Every household had hung mugwort and calamus by their doors to ward off evil and pray for blessings.
The calls of street vendors and the faint, endless sounds of gongs, drums, and string instruments from a distant stage filled the air.
Temporary stalls, like mushrooms popping up after a rain, crammed the sides of the streets.
The crowds were like a raging flood, pouring from the riverbanks into the city's narrow streets and alleys, creating a lively spectacle.
As a River Patrol officer, Chen Qing naturally had no time to rest. He was currently on patrol at the South River Pier, his saber at his hip.
He was guarding against potential stampedes caused by the surging crowds or troublemakers looking to take advantage of the chaos.
His patrol led him to an old teahouse by the river, where the roar of the crowd seemed somewhat muffled by a bamboo awning.
