That's Just How Life Is

Wine-drinking had its civil and martial divisions: martial men drank over a shoulder of pork like Fan Kuai before Xiang Yu, while scholars drank a hundred poems' worth of wine. One was like Fan Kuai meeting Xiang Yu; the other was China's greatest boozehound, Li Taibai—writing poetry whenever he drank too much. Simply put, uncultured warriors drank from big bowls and ate meat by the mouthful, while cultured scholars had far more elaborate ways of enjoying themselves.

But that had been a long time ago. Those scholars who drank and bragged in the old days had all recognized a thousand characters by five or six, memorized Tang poetry by seven or eight, mastered the Four Books and Five Classics in their teens, and studied poetry, lyrics, songs, and prose before further deepening their knowledge. Though their goal had been to pass the imperial examinations and become officials, they truly possessed profound foundations and learning.

Today's so-called cultured people lacked that foundation and grounding. At most, they could toss around a bit of classical Chinese. If asked to compose poetry or lyrics, even if they managed something that looked fairly convincing, it would only look fairly convincing.

For someone like Old Guan, who spent his days carrying birdcages and keeping birds, to understand antiques so thoroughly was already quite rare. As for Ragpicker Hou, the non-family descendant of a prince, he had not even lived to see the days of carrying birdcages and keeping birds. By then, the Qing Dynasty had already fallen, the situation was turbulent, and it was no small feat that he had inherited what his father passed down and still found the interest to study it all these years. Expecting these two to drink and compose poetry was hopeless. Just as in the original drama, they instead