From atop the moss-grown city gate tower, the view stretches over miles of bustling streets—vermilion-lacquered teahouses and wine shops thronged with patrons, their carved railings entwined with crowds, while silk drapes embroidered with cloud patterns flutter outside fabric emporiums. The cries of street hawkers blend with the rapid plucking of pipa strings, and a troupe of masked nuo dancers weaves through the crowd to the rhythm of drums, startling the brass wind chimes on upturned eaves. Beyond, the setting sun gilds the glazed-tile rooftops, setting the entire neon-clad cityscape ablaze with golden light, as if the very air were drunk with its feverish vitality.
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