Wong Fe
I tell you he will go! Wait in the orchard until you hear the first whistle of the boat. Then come for him. He will be ready. Go, honorable friends! He is returning.
Ching
It is useless. Your words may bite like winter, but his eyes will see only the Spring morning.
Wong Fe
Go, I beg you, go!
(They pass out down the steps of porch. Wong Fe hurries to a small table, opens a lacquered box and takes from it a stiletto, which she hides in the folds of her sleeve. She is dancing as Yu Tai Shun enters, and sings as she dances.)
The thousand odors of Spring
Are the thousand arms of love.