Spring, the seventeenth year of Yongchang.
Pei Yunxiu tilted the oil-paper umbrella against the bookcase a little more. The hem of his coarse clothes had already been soaked by the rain. The spring rain in the capital came quickly. He had just come out of the bookstore with the newly bought "Collected Notes on the Art of War by Sun Tzu" in his arms. In the blink of an eye, he was trapped under the eaves of the teahouse by the rain.
"Master, if you don't mind, you can come here to take shelter from the rain."
A clear voice came from behind. Pei Yunxiu turned around and saw a young man in brocade sitting by the window on the second floor of the teahouse, looking at him with a smile. The man was about in his early twenties, wearing a moon-white brocade robe, with a mutton-fat white jade pendant hanging around his waist, which shone brightly even on a rainy day.
Pei Yunxiu hesitated for a moment, then cupped his hands and said, "Thank you for your kindness, sir." After that, he picked up his clothes and went upstairs.
The teahouse is warm and dry, with sandalwood lingering in the air. The young man in brocade clothes sat alone by the window, with a game of chess in front of him, and the fragrance of Biluochun wafting slowly from the teacup in his hand.
Intention: Slightly sour