It is said that Feng Lanxi and Feng Xiyun set off with fifty cartloads of luggage and a retinue of followers. A month of travel brought them to the foot of a certain mountain, and one day after that, to a certain valley.

The valley was ringed on all four sides by mountains, its interior broad and open, and subordinates who had arrived ahead of them had long since seen to all the arrangements. By the time the two arrived, the place had already become a veritable paradise apart from the world — a lake here, a stream there, fields and plots of land, flowers and trees, houses and outbuildings, all in their proper place.

“This is a fine retreat for farming and reading,” Feng Xiyun had remarked at the time, and then turned to discuss plans with the man who had newly become her husband. “Now that we are here, there is no court business to attend to and no battles to fight. We can live the rustic life — the man tilling the fields, the woman at the loom.”

Feng Lanxi nodded with great willingness. “Then let us live as an ordinary husband and wife among the common people — the man providing without, the woman managing within.”

And so the couple settled the matter between them.

The dwellings had been built by the subordinates who had come ahead, but now that their two principals had arrived, naturally larger and more comfortable quarters would be constructed to their specifications. In the meantime, they moved into one of the rooms vacated by their followers and began their life of farming and weaving.

The life of the man tilling and the woman weaving, put simply, meant this: the man labored outside — tilling the soil, planting grain, tending vegetables — to ensure the household had enough to eat. The woman stayed at home — cooking, sweeping, cutting cloth, and weaving — to ensure that hot meals were ready, the rooms were clean, and there were clothes to wear.

And so, by day, Feng Lanxi had a subordinate who understood farming lead him out to hoe the earth, dig up the fields, sow seeds, and plant vegetables. Feng Xiyun, meanwhile, stayed home to light the stove, cook the meals, sweep the rooms, and wash the clothing.

Three days passed in this fashion. On the evening of the fourth day—

Feng Lanxi came trudging home, dragging his hoe and bracing his lower back, and found Feng Xiyun sitting at the entrance waiting for him.

The two looked each other over, exchanged a glance, and let out a simultaneous sigh.

“My dear husband,” Feng Xiyun said, affecting a tenderly pinched tone. “Just look at you — out in the wind and sun like this. Your face has gone all leathery.”

That “dear husband” made Feng Lanxi give a small shudder. Then, with an expression of deep and devoted feeling, he said: “My dearest, all this smoke from the kitchen fires — you’re looking positively sallow.”

That “my dearest” sent Feng Xiyun into two successive shivers. She dropped the pinched tone entirely and spoke with a face full of gentle warmth: “Husband, your hands — oh dear, you have blisters. How will you write poetry and play the flute with hands like these?”

Tender affection was something Feng Lanxi could produce at will. He took his wife’s hand with effortless tenderness and sighed: “My darling, your hands — oh, the poor things. You’ve grown calluses. How will you play the qin and paint after this?”

The two seemed entirely unconscious of their own suffering — they were occupied solely with aching for the other. Hands clasped, gazing into each other’s eyes, they were genuinely moved, falling just short of achieving that sublime state of wordless, misty-eyed devotion.

After exchanging their “tender and lingering” looks for some time, it was Feng Xiyun who conceded first. “I’ve been watching this farming-and-weaving life, and I don’t think it suits us well. Let’s try something else.”

Feng Lanxi was only too glad to oblige. He looked around and said: “We used to have far too much to do, always lamenting that we had no leisure. Now that we have come to this place of clear mountains and beautiful waters to live in seclusion, we may as well spend our days in ease and contentment.”

And so the couple abandoned the rustic farming life and turned instead to spending their days in idle comfort.

As for their few days of labor, the subordinates offered their quiet assessments among themselves: the two principals had simply had too much to eat and nothing better to do — they had gone looking for hardship of their own accord, and gotten precisely what they deserved.