The bitter ocean wind rattled the stays of the junks at their moorings, and blew salt spray across the network of wharves.
The storm had spent most of its fury. The day before, it had driven the Ice Melts Under Spring Sun onto the outer reef. The ship had broken apart, crushed against the jagged rocks. Every man of the crew had died.
But now, the Ice Melts Under Spring Sun was sailing into Pangxiao harbour. Limned with sourceless light, the junk slid across the water, slow and calm, as if untouched by wind or wave. The broken masts were crooked; the sails were ragged and torn, yet somehow held themselves together. The timbers of the hull were twisted and broken, jammed back together as if by a careless child.