In the weather of mid-September, stepping out of the sunlight into the quiet room left his eyes unable to make anything out for a moment; he sensed only the cool air and a faint medicinal fragrance. Chen Caozhi closed his eyes briefly, then opened them to see Xie Daoyun standing before the screen, smiling at him. She still wore a short robe and Lun Scarf, but her clothes hung loose around her; she had grown thin beyond recognition. She stepped forward and bowed with her hands clasped. "Zizhong, thank you for making the long journey." It was her natural low, gentle voice, not the Luoyang Accent, because its heavy nasal tones would aggravate her coughing.
Seeing Xie Daoyun wasted to skin and bone, so frail she seemed scarcely able to bear the weight of her clothes, Chen Caozhi felt a pang in his heart. He could not help stepping forward and taking her hand. Overcome with sadness, he did not even know where to begin his greetings-
With her hand held by Chen Caozhi, Xie Daoyun tugged, trying to draw it back. His grip was quite firm, so she could only give up. Fortunately, Xie Shao, Liu Xu, and the others had not come inside, which eased her shyness a little. But a surge of warmth rose in her chest, and she could not help coughing. Suddenly remembering that her illness could infect others, she hastily pulled her hand free. "Zizhong, don't touch me."
Looking slightly embarrassed, Chen Caozhi turned his head and glanced around. There was no one else there, so he said, "Daoyun, don't regard your illness as so grave. Never mind that we still can't be sure it's Lao Zhu-even if it is, it's only infectious to people with weak constitutions. I'm strong and healthy, and I