A spring day much, much later.
Inside beautiful Hangzhou, a young man rode on a large horse with many servants and guards behind him in a large array. This young man rode by the banks of West Lake with the hanging willows. Occasionally, he raised a hand to brush aside the willow branches in front of his face with a slight smile, but there was no affectation of carefreeness. On the contrary, he emanated a sense of courteousness and indescribable confidence.
Travel barges floated by on the lake, but there were no beautiful women of legends waving their red sleeves. A housekeeper-like person beside this young man said laughingly in a high voice, "Everyone says there are many beautiful women in West Lake, why don't we see any?"
