Frost descended unusually early upon the city of Jinling. I stood by the window of the embroidered tower, watching the parasol tree leaves falling in rustling showers in the courtyard. Inside the sandalwood box on my desk lay half a broken jade pendant. Its jade-green luster remained as warm as ever, but the other half that matched it could never be found again.
That year I was sixteen, just at an age that knew nothing of sorrow. My father ran a silk shop on the banks of the Qinhuai River; though the business was far from fabulously wealthy, it provided enough food and clothing to live without worry. Every morning, my favorite pastime was leaning against the railing of the embroidered tower, watching the bustling crowds below. It was on just such an ordinary day that I met Shen Qingyan.
He was dressed in a moon-white robe, carrying a scholar's box, walking leisurely out of the bluestone alley. The morning light cast a golden rim around his figure, and for a moment I stared, completely entranced, until the handkerchief in my hand accidentally fluttered down. It landed right beside his feet. He bent down to pick it up, raised his eyes to look up at the tower, his gaze as clear as a spring: "Lady, is this yours?"
Chapter 240