With her floral hairpin crown removed, the long hair Lu Weiwei had grown since infancy tumbled loose. Years of wearing it coiled in a bun had left it curling in waves as it spilled in silken strands over her shoulders, its faint fragrance drifting between the bed curtains.
Chen Caozhi gently combed his fingers through Lu Weiwei's abundant, beautiful hair, gazing at the young woman kneeling on the bedding with her hair loose and lashes lowered. Her tender, bashful loveliness was especially captivating, filling him with affection. Suddenly remembering something, he withdrew his hand and felt about his person.
Lu Weiwei's lashes fluttered as she shyly raised her eyes to Chen Caozhi. Seeing him draw something from the Silk Fish Bag at his waist-a red string more than three feet long-she gave a delighted little cry. "Master Chen, how did you come to have a red string ready?"
One early-summer afternoon four years ago, Chen Caozhi had told Lu Weiwei that, in a dream, an Old Man Under the Moon had tied a red string to his left foot, with its other end tied around the left ankle of a young woman as beautiful as an immortal maiden. The Old Man Under the Moon had said, "Chen Caozhi, when you meet a woman like this, she will be your wife. You must marry her, and you will live happily together." Later, while they were admiring lotuses on Pinghu, in a little boat amid the green lotus leaves at the center of the lake, Lu Weiwei had bared her left foot for Chen Caozhi to see, hoping he would give her a red string for her birthday in the eighth month. But then her elder brother had died of illness, followed by Chen Caozhi's mother, and her wish to have the