The restaurant stood in southwestern Luoyang, where the rich and powerful congregated. Its pillars bore a couplet of popular verse: "Golden waves dance with the moon reflected in the cup; jade dew wafts its fragrance, intoxicating immortals in their dreams." Baozhu had never visited a commoners' tavern before and looked curiously about. The building imitated a palace, and its splendor extended even to the imposing dimensions of its beams and wooden pillars, all fashioned from thick nanmu trees three to five hundred years old or older. She could not help marveling to herself.
The private seating occupied the second floor of the main hall, divided by screens and arranged around a raised hexagonal stage in the center. Carpets covered in jeweled-form patterns spread across the stage, where songs and dances were performed.
The proprietor of the Golden Wave Pavilion came to greet them personally. Seeing that the principal guest was a graceful, beautiful young woman, he judged from her skin, hair, and bearing that she must come from an eminent family. Yet she had brought no maids, only a green-clothed slave and a young novice monk following behind her. She wore no jewelry, and only a single Bicolored Hibiscus adorned her glossy black coiffure—a stark departure from the lavish fashions of the day.
The ladies of the eastern and western capitals loved competing over flowers, with novel varieties taking the honors. Daughters of great houses vied to spend fortunes on flower seeds, planting them in their courtyards for contests at festive gatherings. More exceptional still were the osmanthus blossoms of Chan'guang Temple, which had to be presented to princes and nobles when they first bloomed.
As Bai Letian's poem said, "One cluster of richly colored flowers costs the taxes of ten middling households." Such two-colored blossoms were exceedingly rare and