Early on the sixth day of the twelfth lunar month, Young Maid Zanhua woke to find the room bright with light. Thinking she had overslept, she hastily dressed, climbed out of bed, and pushed open the window. Little Cherished Garden had become a world of crystalline white: a heavy snowfall overnight had left a thick blanket on the ground. She could not help crying out in delighted surprise, "It's snowing, Little Lady, it's snowing—Duan Chu, you lazybones, get up!"
Duan Chu, who shared her room, was woken by the noise. Rubbing her eyes, she said, "Is it snowing? No wonder it's so cold."
Zanhua lifted the curtain and entered the inner bedchamber, only to find Lu Weiwei in her underjacket and underskirt, taking small steps toward the tall window in hemp slippers. She pushed open half the carved window, her eyes narrowing into crescents, a rare smile appearing on her pure, lovely oval face. "It really has snowed. Luckily, we moved the two pots of Broad-Fragrance Pure-Heart and Golden-Edged Ink Orchid into the heated room last night, or they would have been damaged by the cold!"
Startled, Zanhua hurriedly found a snow-white lambskin coat and draped it over Lu Weiwei's shoulders, chiding her, "Little Lady, you only worry about whether the flowers will freeze, never whether you will." She ushered Lu Weiwei back to the large bed with its plain curtains and helped her put on her clothes and skirt.
Duan Chu led in two serving women, who set two fiercely burning braziers before the bed and carried away the two whose charcoal had turned to ash overnight.
After washing and grooming, Lu Weiwei put up her hair in a mourning bun and donned a mourning cord. Dressed entirely in plain white, she first went to pay her morning respects