After a night of rain, the morning sun surged anew.
Having rested at home for several days, Du Changqing finally recovered from his cold. Early in the morning, he put on a spring robe and arrived at the medical hall with Ah Cheng, only to see Yin Zheng arranging many flowers behind a table at the entrance.
The flowers were pomegranate blooms, delicate and bright, clusters of flame-like blossoms that seemed like the first spark of red silk, or torn red paper scattered among the lush greenery, their deep reds and dense greens making them particularly striking.
Among the pomegranate flowers, there were also many palm-sized white porcelain jars, decorated with pink paper slips, resembling pearls hidden among the blooms, exquisite and charming.
Du Changqing casually picked up a jar and asked Yin Zheng, "Why are you displaying so many rouge and powder jars?"
"They're not rouges." Yin Zheng hung a painting on the wall, "These are new medicines made by Miss Lu."
