"A fine, sad rain falls on Tomb-Sweeping Day; the traveler's heart is breaking on his way."
From the warm days of March to the Tomb-Sweeping Festival, a full month had passed. The An family's barren mountain had been cleared, and the saplings were all planted.
At the foot of the mountain, the greenhouses stood in neat rows, like a line of sentinels.
A month had passed since Jiang Xia left to have his wound treated.
During that time, Jiang Xia had called home several times, and each call brought good news.
They had found a renowned doctor in Beijing and a good medicinal formula.
New flesh had begun to grow on his hand, and his skin was starting to heal and regenerate.
Every time, it was good news.
Master Tang answered every call, always with Da Huang or Li Chengze by his side, of course.
In that month, Jiang Xia had more or less finished laying the necessary groundwork.
