"Softly blew the valley wind, bringing warmth and bringing cool. Black and Yellow met in harmony; all things bore their splendor. Hidden creatures leaped from the depths; flying birds soared through clouds. Ah, the one I cherished stood upon the bridge at the ford. At daybreak my thoughts arose; across the ripples, robes lifted high.
"Softly blew the valley wind; birds gathered only in lofty trees. Ah, the one I cherished wandered freely there. The luan perched upon a high ridge; in my ears I imagined the music of Cloud Shao. Wings beat as evening fell; harmonious cries greeted the rising dawn. I thought of him, and cherished his goodness."
This was "Valley Wind," from Lu Yun's "Four Poems Presented to Zheng Manji," which Lu Weiwei loved to recite. Now she borrowed paper and a brush from Zhenqing Daoist Abbey and, gathering back her sleeve and holding her wrist aloft, began writing it in the Han clerical script of the Huashan Stele.
The young lady's posture as she concentrated on wielding the brush was truly captivating, as still and beautiful as a sculpture, yet with a flowing radiance. Her brush never paused as she completed the piece in one sustained sweep. The characters were full-bodied and dignified, their imagery elegant and graceful.
Chen Caozhi watched Lu Weiwei's slender, delicate wrist turn as she guided the brush, the flaring strokes sharply defined, as though chiseled or cast. Had he not seen it himself, he would scarcely have believed that such a lovely young lady could possess such vigorous brushwork.
Chen Caozhi copied out Ge Hong's poem "Medicine-Washing Pool" again and showed it to Lu Weiwei. She admired it with a smile and praised him. "Now this is Master Chen's handwriting."
Calligraphy could express sorrow, anger, grief, and indignation, but never agitation.