The sound of the thunderstorm thundered against the small building; the beautiful dream woke up from the dark depths of the sky. A Yin leaned against the window, holding an edible bird's nest from Shanghai in her handkerchief, holding a pair of silver scissors and carefully plucking away fine feathers; A Luo, draped in a cloak, sat to the side, coughing with each page of the book she flipped through. Her body was more or less better, excepting for a bit of reccurrence with the overcast, rainy skies; her back was wet and cold, as if having caught the rheumatism of the neighbouring uncle. Each time she coughed, A Yin knitted her brows, yet she didn't say anything, only privately increasing the speed at which she plucked feathers from the bird's nest. A sound came from the corridor; Li Shiyi and Song Shijiu coming downstairs. A Yin looked furtively; the two didn't seem as clingingly intimate as before, and between them, they maintained a half-body's distance, not even ...

Li Shiyi led Song Shijiu back inside; from the small stove, she picked up a pot of hot water, and steeped a cup of Lu'an tea for her, then prepared water for washing the face at just the right temperature. Song Shijiu took the cloth which Li Shiyi had wrung out, and lowered her face into the humid water vapour, breathing in deeply, and heart the sound of Li Shiyi putting books in order. Li Shiyi tidied up the messy letters, each one put in order, pressed between book covers; the sound of the letter paper seemed to bring the scent of ink, enough that it could comfort the returners who were exhausted from their journey. Only then did Song Shijiu have a feeling of "having returned"; it steadily and steadfastly became concrete in Li Shiyi's motions, causing her sensation of having drifted for a great many years to dispel bit by bit. Having turned over another leaf, she heard Li Shiyi ask her, "Since you've remembered, what would you say about Zhu Yan?" Song ...