Shih-niang sang. And in a near-by junk there was a young man called Sun; his first name was Fu, Rich, and his surname was Shan-lai, Excellent-in-Promise. His family was one of the wealthiest in Hsin-an of Hui-chow; his ancestors had owned the salt monopoly in Yang-chow. He was just twenty years old, and had moulded his character in accordance with his passion, being a regular visitor at the blue pavilions, where the smiles of painted roses are to be bought. He was making a journey, and had cast anchor for the night at Kua-chow. He was drinking in solitude, bemoaning the absence of companions.
Suddenly in the night he heard a voice more sweet than the sighs of the bird of passion, or than the warbling phoenix. No words seemed adequate, he felt, to describe the beauty of this song. Walking out from his cabin, he found that the music came from a junk not very far distant from his own.
In his eagerness to know who had enchanted him, he told his men to go and question the boatmen. But he learned no more than that the junk had been hired by Li Chia. He obtained no information concerning the singer. He reflected:
"Such a perfect voice could not belong to a woman of good family. How can I manage to see this bird?"
He could not sleep that night. In the morning, at about the fifth watch, he heard the wind roaring on the water. The light of day was strangely veiled by cloud, and flakes of snow were whirling madly. It has been said;
The clouds are swallowing
Countless thousands of trees upon the hill.
Footprints disappear on many footpaths.
The fisher in the bamboo hat
On the frail boat