Evening Chants by the River​
When the setting sun kneads its last golden glow into the Min River, Taijiang's outline is being steeped blue by dusk. The river surface, like a spread-out silk 缎，shimmers gently with the evening breeze, shaking distant lights into broken diamonds.​
Banyan trees on the flood embankment hang aerial roots, their shadows blurring into ink blots on the stone slabs. A cart selling ice jelly steams white; wooden paddles stir brown sugar syrup swirling in bowls, its sweetness mingling with the river's moisture. School-uniformed teenagers zip past on bikes, their bells startling dragonflies perched on railings—wingtips slicing through tangerine sunset clouds.​
A cargo ship's horn drifts from downstream, its long echo sinking into twilight. The river darkens gradually, swallowing the sky's violet-blue, buildings' bright yellow, fishing boats' orange-red, brewing them into a swaying cup of wine.​