Song Ciwan stood outside the North Gate of Bright Moon Square, listening to a high-pitched song coming from an unknown source. She saw countless streams of formless energy twist and rise from the heads of the people below.
That energy was a "multicolored white," forming a stark contrast with the pitch-black sky.
Suddenly, from within the dense crowd ahead, a portly merchant wearing a wealthy man's cap shot up onto the tips of his fat, round feet.
On his toes, he stumbled about, waving his arms high in the air as he began a clumsy, drunken dance.
He opened his mouth, picking up the melody from the high-pitched female voice, and sang along: "Bind them up, bind them up, bind the little feet. Thirty years old, a fine time to bind the feet. Bind them to a perfect point, bind them oh-so-neat..."
His voice was also incredibly high-pitched; coarse yet shrill, the song seemed to rise with enough force to pierce the very clouds.
