The night wind rustled. As the young man returned, the sun had already set.
In the rear garden of the Feng Residence, moonlight washed over the pond, floating upon it like a thin film of silver.
The lamps beneath the covered walkway glimmered dimly, like weary fireflies.
That night, spring lay deep as the sea, and the moonlight shone like frost.
Farther along the covered walkway of the Feng Residence, lamplight glowed through the study's paper window, a square of warm yellow, still as an antique inkstone.
Presently, footsteps sounded, and Wei Zi emerged from behind the moon gate.
He still wore his scarlet robe, a Silver Fish hanging at his waist and the Jade Balance fastened to his sash.
Wind stirred his sleeves, fallen blossoms brushed his shoulders, and his steps were unhurried.
All the mist and rain of Suzhou had withdrawn from his brow; his eyes were like a cold pool holding the moon.
Across a courtyard of spring beauty, he gazed at the window lit from within...
The scarlet-robed young man had come to pay his respects to his teacher.
Inside the study, Feng Yan sat quietly behind his desk.
The lamplight slanted across half his face, tracing the window's shadow.
The lamp was guttering, his shadow gaunt, and white hair fell to his shoulders.
Half a cup of tea had gone cold; an old volume weighed upon the inkstone.
His proud integrity remained unbroken, though frost and snow had filled his temples.
In that instant...
The lamp's charred wick fell, and the young man pushed open the door.
It was as though those bygone days had returned, when the purple-robed figure was still young.
Wei Nisheng stood inside the threshold, his throat stirring faintly.
During three months in Suzhou, he had investigated