Quests

From the journal

Qu Yuan once said: "I would rather cast myself into the Xiang River and rest within the bellies of river fish." Yet white steeds were cast into the surging waters, and with them the pure-hearted scholars perished. The dead are gone, yet the living dream on. The past feels like yesterday while rain pours without pause. Even without a Pillow of Yellow Millet, one may still call back the souls of the departed. In dreams, deep pools and still waters cannot hide that lingering fragrance. Though spring has withered away, daylight shines bright once more. Only when the clouds part does the sun appear. Only when the tide falls still does song return. Look now where the wind begins to rise: who is it that casts a line into the green current?

Lost to the currents, the white steeds return in dreams.