Gazing at the delicate clusters of Yingtao nestled among the green leaves, Yun Ying saw that most were a glossy, translucent yellow. Only a few were tinged with a blush of red, shining like agate, but none were fully ripe. She couldn't resist any longer. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached for a blushing one, pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, and wiped it before popping it into her mouth.
Juhua felt a pang of pity for the fruit being picked before it was ripe. When she caught sight of the handkerchief in Yun Ying's hand, she almost laughed out loud. "Tell me," she asked, amused, "are you supposed to be a man or a woman? Dressed like that, yet you're carrying an embroidered green handkerchief in your sleeve. It's not just that it doesn't suit you—it doesn't even match your coarse-cloth clothes. I've never met anyone as strange as you."
