Fantasy fiction; Kai Lung (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
“It is related,” said a dispassionate voice behind them, “that a person
of limited intelligence, on being assured that he would certainly one
day enjoy an adequate competence if he closely followed the industrious
habits of the thrifty bee, spent the greater part of his life in
anointing his thighs with the yellow powder which he laboriously
collected from the flowers of the field. It is not so recorded; but
doubtless the nameless one in question was by profession a maker of
opium pipes, for this person has observed from time to time how that
occupation, above all others, tends to degrade the mental faculties, and
to debase its followers to a lower position than that of the beasts of
labour. Learn therefrom, O superficial Wang Yu, that wisdom lies in
an intelligent perception of great principles, and not in a slavish
imitation of details which are, for the most part, beyond your simple
and insufficient understanding.”
“Such may, indeed, be the case, Kai Lung,” replied Wang Yu sullenly--for
it was the story-teller in question who had approached unperceived, and
who now stood before them--“but it is none the less a fact that, on the
last occasion when this misguided person joined the attending circle
at your uplifted voice, a Mandarin of the third degree chanced to
pass through Wu-whei, and halted at the door-step of ‘The Fountain of
Beauty,’ fully intending to entrust this one with the designing and
fashioning of a pipe of exceptional elaborateness. This matter, by his
absence, has now passed from him, and to-day, through listening to the
narrative of how the accomplished Yuin-Pel doubled his fortune, he is
the poorer by many taels.”
“Yet to-morrow, when the name of the Mandarin of the third degree
appears in the list of persons who have transferred their entire
property to those who are nearly related to them in order to avoid it
being seized to satisfy the just claims made against them,” replied Kai
Lung, “you will be able to regard yourself the richer by so many taels.”
At these words, which recalled to the minds of all who were present the
not uncommon manner of behaving observed by those of exalted rank, who
freely engaged persons to supply them with costly articles without in
any way regarding the price to be paid, Wang Yu was silent.
“Nevertheless,” exclaimed a thin voice from the edge of the group which
surrounded Kai Lung, “it in nowise follows that the stories are in
themselves excellent, or of such a nature that the hearing of their
recital will profit a person. Wang Yu may be satisfied with empty words,
but there are others present who were studying deep matters when Wang
Yu was learning the art of walking. If Kai Lung’s stories are of such
remunerative benefit as the person in question claims, how does it
chance that Kai Lung himself who is assuredly the best acquainted with
them, stands before us in mean apparel, and on all occasions confessing
an unassuming poverty?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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