"Good rain knows the season; when spring arrives, it comes to life. It steals in with the wind by night, moistening all things soundlessly..."
Early in the morning, when the sky had only just brightened, Wang Yan, his hair disheveled and dressed in a silk undershirt, pushed open the window. Looking out at the hazy rain, he recited the first half of Du Fu's "Joyful Rain on a Spring Night."
"Young Master, what fine literary talent! You will surely pass the provincial examination this autumn."
The young bookboy Wang Dongliang brought over a fox-fur coat and draped it over Wang Yan's slightly stooped frame.
Wang Dongliang was the son of a tenant farmer, only ten years old this year. His original name had been Wang Six, since he was the sixth child in his family. Though already ten, he was much less developed than children his age—small, thin, and wiry. Wang Yan had been bored out of his mind and given the boy this name.
Hearing the little bookboy, Wang Yan shook his head with an amused smile. "I didn't write that poem. It was written by Du Fu of the Tang dynasty. You need to read more. Haven't you started with the Thousand Character Classic? Read more of the books in the study. If there's anything you don't understand, come ask me."
"It's enough for this humble one to know some characters. I wouldn't dare delay Young Master's studies of the classics. Once you pass the imperial examination and become a great official..."
"Do you think being an official is that good?"
"Of course it is! I heard the emperors of old say that books hold houses of gold, and books hold beauties fair as jade. Reading is for becoming an official. Once you become an official, you can