It was already late, twilight was descending. The surface of the water was not quiet at all; fine rain was still drifting, the reeds rustled in the wind, and wild ducks flapped noisily—flapping through the wind, flapping through the water. After a while, they squawked a few short calls, possibly due to a fight over fish and shrimp.
A whistle suddenly pierced through the reed marsh, making the flapping sounds pause. Several people on the shore stood up; a small boat pushed through the reeds and glided out, the person wearing a conical hat on the boat used a paddle to stabilize the rocking vessel.
"Is everyone here?"
"All here!"
The boatman appeared to be in his forties or fifties, not too old nor too young, with tight, dark brown skin, powerful muscles and bones, seemingly having spent a large portion of his life under the sun and wind on the water.
