Early morning, March nineteenth, Jinghe Year Sixteen.
Dawn had only just broken. The dew on Imperial Street had yet to dry, and the street cleaners had already washed the bluestone paving until it reflected people's silhouettes.
The morning sun rose beyond the East Flower Gate, spilling its red-gold light over vermilion walls and jade-green tiles, over the endless procession of carriages and sedan chairs, and over officials hurrying to their duties.
Spring was well advanced. Willow fluff drifted all along the street, clump after clump, floating lazily down into the morning light.
At the entrance to Imperial Street, five young men converged without prior arrangement.
Five scarlet robes.
Wei Nisheng, Wang Kan, Zhang Zai, Xie Lin, Shen Yi.
Five men in five scarlet robes, so bright they seemed to have torn pieces from the rosy clouds at the edge of the sky and draped them over their shoulders.
The "Advanced" chapter of the Analects said: "In late spring, when the spring clothes are ready, with five or six men who have come of age and six or seven boys, I would bathe in the Yi River, enjoy the breeze at the Rain Dance Terrace, and return home singing."
"Xie Dao'an!"
Wang Kan was the first to speak. He strode forward, slapped Xie Lin on the shoulder, and grinned from ear to ear:
"That new scarlet robe looks much smarter than the green one you wore in Guilin!
What, did you sneak a few looks in the mirror last night?"
"You jest, Zhanzheng." Without turning his head or slowing his steps, Xie Lin said mildly,
"I remember the first time you wore scarlet. You practically forgot how to walk, asking everyone you met, 'Can you tell this is a new robe?'"
"Nonsense!" Wang Kan retorted with a laugh. "The day