The next day, the rain was heavy and the wind fierce.
The rain fell without end, splattering loudly and endlessly upon the pond's surface.
Chen Yi woke early. After breakfast, he didn't even go to the pavilion, choosing instead to stay in his study.
He practiced the Calligraphy Dao while listening to the wind and rain beat against the window.
There was a certain charm to it.
Xiaodie ground ink by his side. Watching the characters he wrote, she silently read them to herself.
'The east wind blew through the small tower again last night... The east wind did not favor General Zhou... Even with crimson lips and a plain face... Face?'
She couldn't think of any lines of poetry that started with the word 'face'.
Then he wrote another, completely unrelated line: "The three mountains seem to fall past the clear blue sky," followed by, "I've stolen half a day of this fleeting life's leisure."
