Ever since the cold rain at Zhenqing Daoist Abbey had soaked her skirts and shoes and made her ill, Lu Weiwei had not left the residence. Every afternoon, Chen Caozhi came to visit her at Hundred Flowers Pavilion. Those brief visits, not quite an hour long, held all the happiness of her day. Sometimes, in a foolish fancy, she even wished the illness would linger forever, so that Chen Caozhi would have a reason to keep visiting her-
Though innocent, Lu Weiwei was no foolish girl who understood nothing. She could see the caution and struggle concealed beneath Chen Caozhi's composed exterior. When their eyes met, passion would suddenly flare, its momentary heat seeming about to melt her, only to be swiftly withdrawn, leaving him smiling warmly. When he left, he never looked back.
Of course Lu Weiwei understood the enormous gulf between the Wu Commandery Lu Clan and the Qiantang Chen Clan. One was a high-ranking noble house, the other a family of humble commoner origins; their standings were as far apart as heaven and earth. Yet whenever she saw Chen Caozhi, she forgot that such distinctions of pedigree even existed. Over the past few years, she had traveled through the Three Wu, seeking flowers and visiting trees, and had met no small number of young men. Which of them could compare with Chen Caozhi? Rarest of all, Chen Caozhi shared her interests-
Two days earlier, she had heard her father speak of Chen Caozhi's elder brother, Chen Qingzhi, and Ding Youwei, a celebrated young lady of Qiantang. Their story had ended with Chen Qingzhi dying young and Ding Youwei being forcibly taken back to the Ding family. At the time, she had thought that if only Chen Qingzhi had not died so early, theirs would have been a