I have lived on the waterside pavilion by the lake for many years, resting in the Green Bamboo Pavilion, drinking in the green pavilion, and playing in the Lingfeng Pavilion. Lying beside me are poems and songs, calligraphy and inkstone dripping with ink, silk and bamboo music, and small steps briskly. It seems that I have forgotten the wind and rain in Qionglou that year.
That day, a bitingly cold Beginning of Winter, she was taken away by him. She didn't know when they met, nor when he fell in love with her, but as smart as she was, she understood that he had to get her.