After Lady Yun's death, before Lu Tong descended the mountain, he scattered the pouch of Golden Qin beneath the Red Plum Tree.
Lady Yun was right, Luomei Peak does not grow herbs that cure poison; sometimes, fate seems to seal destiny from the very beginning.
Lu Tong knelt on the ground, reaching his hand toward the cluster of pretty flowers.
They appeared only slightly larger than winter jasmine, a beautiful golden color, exactly like the illustrations in books, in the snowy landscape, their branches full and lush. The bright colors trembled gently in the breeze, illuminating one's eyes.
Lu Tong gently touched them.
The cluster of flowers she had thought would never sprout, after she left, after the snowstorms, had quietly bloomed on their own, in the cold wind, under the snow, brilliantly forcing their way open.
As she gazed upon them, for some reason, her eyes suddenly warmed, and tears fell.
...
"Snap—"
