“Some omen doubtless lay within the meeting,” said the elder Chang. “Had you but revealed the happening fully on your return, capable geomancers might have been consulted. In this matter you have fallen short.”
“It is admittedly easier to rule a kingdom than to control one’s thoughts,” confessed Chang Tao frankly. “A great storm of wind met this person on his way back, and when he had passed through it, all recollection of the incident had, for the time, been magically blown from his mind.”
“It is now too late to question the augurs. But in the face of so involved a portent it would be well to avert all thought from Melodious Vision, wealthy Shen Yi’s incredibly attractive daughter.”
“It is unwise to be captious in affairs of negotiation,” remarked the young man thoughtfully. “Is the smile of the one referred to such that at the vision of it the internal organs of an ordinary person begin to clash together, beyond the power of all control?”
“Not in the case of the one who is speaking,” replied the grandfather of Chang Tao, “but a very illustrious poet, whom Shen Yi charitably employed about his pig-yard, certainly described it as a ripple on the surface of a dark lake of wine, when the moon reveals the hidden pearls beneath; and after secretly observing the unstudied grace of her movements, the most celebrated picture-maker of the province burned the implements of his craft, and began life anew as a trainer of performing elephants. But when maidens are as numerous as the grains of sand—”
“Esteemed,” interposed Chang Tao, with smooth determination, “wisdom lurks in the saying: ‘He who considers everything decides nothing.’ Already this person has spent an unprofitable score of years through having no choice in the matter; at this rate he will spend yet another score through having too much. Your timely word shall be his beacon. Neither the disadvantage of Shen Yi’s oppressive wealth nor the inconvenience of Melodious Vision’s excessive beauty shall deter him from striving to fulfil your delicately expressed wish.”
“Yet,” objected the elder Chang, by no means gladdened at having the decision thus abruptly lifted from his mouth, “so far, only a partially formed project—”
“To a thoroughly dutiful grandson half a word from your benevolent lips carries further than a full-throated command does from a less revered authority.”
“Perchance. This person’s feet, however, are not liable to a similar acceleration, and a period of adequate consideration must intervene before they are definitely moving in the direction of Shen Yi’s mansion. ‘Where the road bends abruptly take short steps,’ Chang Tao.”
“The necessity will be lifted from your venerable shoulders, revered,” replied Chang Tao firmly. “Fortified by your approving choice, this person will himself confront Shen Yi’s doubtful countenance, and that same bend in the road will be taken at a very sharp angle and upon a single foot.”