Chen Caozhi knew little about the Eastern Jin legend of the Butterfly Lovers, but he had seen the Yue Opera version. During the Eighteen-Mile Farewell, Zhu Yingtai kept using all manner of metaphors to hint that she was a woman, yet Liang Shanbo simply failed to understand. His wooden dullness made one fret for him-
But this powdered, perfumed Zhu Yingtai before him seemed utterly different from the Zhu Yingtai of the opera. This Zhu Yingtai was not that Zhu Yingtai, and he, Chen Caozhi, was no Liang Shanbo either, for even if he knew this Zhu Yingtai was a woman, he would not think of marrying her. His heart held only Lu Weiwei. By comparison, his romance with Lu Weiwei was rather more like that of the Butterfly Lovers: Lu Weiwei was the cherished daughter of an aristocratic clan, while he was a commoner of humble birth. By the conventional rules of society, there was no possibility of their being together; it could only end in tragedy-
Chen Caozhi thought, I am certainly no Liang Shanbo. I must marry Zhu Yingtai-no, I must marry Lu Weiwei. Difficult though it is, there is still hope.
Beside him, Zhu Yingtai asked curiously, "Brother Zizhong, what are you thinking about, frowning and glaring like that?"
"Nothing," Chen Caozhi said. "I was still savoring your zither music, Brother Yingtai. Like the fragrance of flowers, its lingering scent remains."
Zhu Yingtai smiled, her dimples appearing again. "Not like you. Xi Jiabin had already vanished from sight before you thought to send him off with your flute." With that, she stepped ahead.
Chen Caozhi thought, Is Zhu Yingtai seeing me off so attentively because she has developed feelings for me? Or is it merely the friendship of kindred spirits? He did not wish to dwell