On a rainy spring day at West Lake, a young scholar named Xu Xian shared his umbrella with two beautiful women — one in white, one in green.

He did not know that they were spirits who had cultivated for a thousand years, nor that this simple kindness would change his life forever.

The woman in white — Bai Suzhen — found him charming in his awkwardness. "Thank you for the umbrella, young sir," she said, and her voice was like the sound of rain on lotus leaves.

Xu Xian blushed. He was not used to beautiful women addressing him directly. He was not used to anyone addressing him directly.

"My sister and I are going to the Temple of Lonely Cold," she said. "Will you escort us?"

He did. He was too polite not to. And when they arrived, and the rain intensified, and his umbrella was the only shelter, he stood in the rain rather than share it with them — because he thought sharing would be improper.

Bai Suzhen, watching from the temple doorway, smiled. "This one," she said to her sister the green snake, "is worth the thousand years."

The green snake said nothing. She had seen too many of these stories end badly to be optimistic. But she said nothing, because hope is harder to kill than wisdom.