One day Ju-Kiouan was leaning pensively on the balcony of her pavilion, precisely at the same time when Tchin-Sing was standing by his.  The day was clear as crystal, and not a cloud floated in the blue space above.  There was not sufficient wind to move the lightest twigs of the willows, and the surface of the water was glistening and placid as a mirror, only disturbed, here and there, when some tiny gold-fish leaped for an instant into the sunshine.  The trees and grassy banks were reflected so distinctly that it was impossible to tell where the real world left off, and the land of dreams began.  Ju-Kiouan was amusing herself watching the beauteous water-picture when her eyes fell upon that portion of the lake, near the wall, where, with all the clearness of reality, was the reflection of the pavilion on the opposite shore.

She had never noticed it before, and what was her surprise to behold an exact reproduction of the one where she was standing, the gilded roof, the red and black pillars, and all the beauteous drapery about the doors.  She would have been able to read the inscription upon the tablets, had they not been reversed.  But what surprised her more than all was to see, leaning on the balcony, a figure which, if it had not come from the other side of the lake, she would have taken for her own reflection.  It was the mirrored image of Tchin-Sing.  At first she took it for the reflection of a girl, as he was dressed in robes according to the fashion of the time.  As the heat was intense, he had thrown off his student’s cap, and his hair fell about his fresh, beardless face.  But soon Ju-Kiouan recognized, from the violent beating of her heart, that the reflection in the water was not that of a young girl.

Until then she had believed that the earth contained no being created for her, and had often indulged in pensive revery over her loneliness.  Never, said she, shall I take my place as a link between the past and future of my family, but I shall enter among the shadows as a lonely shade.

But when she beheld the reflection in the water, she found that her beauty had a sister, or, more properly speaking, a brother.  Far from being displeased to discover that her beauty was not unrivaled, she was filled with intense joy.  Her heart was beating and throbbing with love for another, and in that instant Ju-Kiouan’s whole life was changed.  It was foolish in her to fall violently in love with a reflection, of whose reality she knew nothing, but after all she was only acting like nearly all young girls who take a husband for his white teeth or his curly hair, knowing nothing whatever of his real character.

Tchin-Sing had also perceived the charming reflection of the young girl.  “I am dreaming,” he cried.  “That beautiful image upon the water is the combination of sunshine and the perfume of many flowers.  I recognize it well.  It is the reflection of the image within my own heart, the divine unknown whom I have worshiped all my life.”