The silt curled as the slim form wove through it. Silver scales, like the most precious of carp, and the suggestion of a gleaming eye - golden, like contained fire.
Above her was the canopy of large green leaves and open lotuses that faced the sun like up-turned lanterns at Spring Festival. She loved the mud, the leaves and the lotuses. There she had hid for a while, gathering her strength.
In her heart of hearts beat another one - like the same tune of the zither, but so different and beautiful at the same time.
Soon the two hearts would beat together again.