The Breeze Writes, the Stream Remains Silent

Hidden among the hills and streams of Shaoxing, Lanting whispers in the language of water and wind. The breeze carries the scent of ink and wine, and one can almost hear Wang Xizhi’s laughter echoing through the bamboo groves. Beneath the stone bridge, the water shimmers like flowing time — fleeting, yet eternal. The Preface to the Orchid Pavilion has long become part of the landscape itself, written into every swaying leaf and murmuring breeze — a quiet testament to a thousand years of grace and tranquility.