The night was deep, the cold moon hung high, in the east of Jianshui City.
The pale, eerie moonlight spilled over the ancient city walls, and the city gate tower exuded an ominous aura. The dark red curtain suddenly dropped, swaying slightly in the wind, as if flowing with fresh blood.
Fire pits were lit, projecting the shadows of gradually gathering opera performers onto the dark red curtain. Their high-pitched vocal exercises echoed eerily through the silent night.
The musicians sat in chairs, tuning their instruments; the strings of the erhu lamented like crying, the gongs and drums sounded muffled and oppressive, weaving a spine-tingling prelude.
The blood crows, already asleep, were startled by the commotion and flew in flocks over the plains outside the eastern city, skimming across the military camps of the Jingzhou army.
The army, initially high-spirited, was now disturbed by these strange tones.
