When they arrived at the mountain-road, Woo Ling-foh paused. "You must continue onward alone," he said slowly. "The stars do not portend well, so I can not go with you. All my movements are controlled by astrological divinings. That) is why contentment and peace are mine."
Hwei-Ti made no protest at the old mystic's desertion. In fact he scarcely heeded it. It was enough that he was nearing the Blue City. His weakness was acute. His throat was parched. His tongue was dry. Time after time he staggered and fell. But ever he rose to his feet and continued onward up the sad, lonesome road. Eventually he reached the summit of the mountain. He breathed painfully. His eyes were wet with tears. He was very weak. But there before him stretched the Moon Road, a street of shimmering silver that swerved off into the Blue City.
As he walked out upon the Moon Road much of his fatigue abated. The cool air laved his tired body as though it were balm. It caressed his wasted cheeks, smoothed away the marks of worry and care. In the windows of the houses the star-lamps gleamed, and gradually he could make out the form of the houses as his vision adjusted itself to the pungent blue. Finally he heard the sound of sweet singing. His heart beat fast. Now he was weak no longer. Love, desire, made him strong.
The next moment he was in the magnolia garden and the wondrous girl was in his arms, crushed to his breast like a beautiful, fragrant flower. Contentment was complete. He kissed her soft lips again and again. Then she pushed him slowly away and continued her singing. But now she sang directly to him, a song that roses sing when their lovers return. It was magic, it was enchantment. Perhaps Woo Ling-foh was right. The Blue City was a spirit world; but if so, what mattered?
Entranced, he lingered in the garden until the rose-tipped shafts of morning crept into the skies. Slowly the blue faded into roseate magnificence. The magnolia trees sighed softly. They swayed in the breeze as though they were awaking. A few of the fragile blossoms fell upon him. The lovely, flowerlike maiden rose to her feet. She took his hand and faced toward the East. An ecstatic expression was upon her face and her soft bosom rose and fell as though she were greatly enthused. Forgotten by Hwei-Ti was the panic that had seized Woo Ling-foh on that other morning when they had fled together from the gorgeous horrors about which Woo Ling-foh talked in whispers. Gone was fear, fear of death, fear of life. Only the rose tints of lovely dawn remained and this girl of songs and dreams.
Slowly the blue faded and the rose, pink, orange glow intensified. From the distance there came a great moaning, a moaning as of the sea booming upon a white coral beach. It sounded like distant thunder. It was the thunder of dawn, the crashing beauty of the sun. Slowly, majestically it loomed into view. Its brilliance was blinding, dazzling. It burned the eyes of Hwei-ti, yet he could not turn them away. One by one the star-lanterns flickered out. His body commenced to tremble. It was the most exalted moment of his life. It was like a journey to the sun. It was a beauty too intense for his poor mind to absorb. He commenced to tremble.
The roar of the waves upon the coral beach intensified. Now the whole city was golden, tipped with rose and orange. The roar was frightful. He felt as though his head were bursting. His eyes pained as though they were on fire. He could not breathe. Moaning he fell to his
