Rainy South Buries the Flower Soul

The rain in Jiangnan never falls freely. It falls densely, seeping into the stone crevices of Lin'an's imperial street, into the bell chimes of Hanshan Temple outside Suzhou, onto the gauze curtains of West Lake's painted boats, and into the eyes of women forgotten by official history. This is a rain that has fallen for a thousand years. In the rain, there are the low strings of a songstress, the longing gaze of a weaver, the lyric papers hidden in a lady's dressing case, and the fingertips of a nun brushing dust off scriptures. They are not the women of emperors and generals, nor footnotes to scholars and beauties—they are souls that truly lived in the old alleys of Jiangnan, every smile and frown attested by poetry. This book takes Song lyrics as its bones and Ming-Qing poetry as its flesh and blood, from Li Qingzhao's parasol tree night rain to Zhu Shuzhen's broken-hearted dying lamp, from Liu Rushi's peach blossom spirit to He Shuangqing's every leaf and sound, restoring the joys and sorrows shrouded in mist. It is not fiction or romance, but a salvage of sunken names from the seams of 'Complete Song Lyrics', 'Broken Heart Collection', and 'Orchid Grass'.}