Autumn wind curled around Mount Daqing in the north of the State of Zhao. Most of the rattan vines had dried and withered, and leaves floated down from the mountain into the river below. Perhaps they, like that gourd bottle from years ago, would eventually reach the Milky Way Sea and then float on to the Great Tang in the Eastern Lands.
Beneath Mount Daqing lay three counties. Yunjie County was the most flourishing of the three. It wasn’t very large, but it bustled with people. When market day came, people from the whole mountain region gathered there, and a hubbub of voices would fill the air.
On this day, a young man wearing a clean, blue scholar’s robe walked into Yunjie, seemingly restless with emotion. Though he was a stranger, his face looked familiar. It was, of course, Meng Hao.
He walked down the familiar streets, passing houses and shops. As he strolled through the mortal world, he recalled many things from the past. This place contained his memories from childhood, the lonely bitterness of his youth, and his stubborn attachment to his studies. So many unforgettable events.
Passing a large courtyard, he said, “That would be where Miss Sun lives….” The walls which had seemed so tall in the past, now looked somewhat short. Past the walls were Miss Sun’s bedchambers, a place that had been the subject of many fantasies in the past.
He had often imagined that Steward Sun would take a liking to him, and then offer him Lady Sun’s hand in marriage. She was rumored to be as beautiful as a goddess.