"Mr. Jiang, you've been holding that piece of calligraphy for quite a while—could you let us have a look?" someone asked, itching with curiosity.
"If it can make Mr. Jiang so obsessed and overjoyed, is a great master about to emerge from the boudoir as well?"
"Don't make such a fuss. Since ancient times there have been countless heroines and women of great talent; they were merely bound hand and foot by rules and rituals."
"Hmph, what heroines, what great women? I say women simply shouldn't be showing their faces in public—what sort of conduct is that?"
"Exactly. A bunch of long-haired, short-sighted things—their reputations are all just hot air."
"A woman's lack of talent is virtue; Mr. Jiang, you're being far too lenient."
"Heh, if you're so capable, have you ever produced a poem this good?"
"What 'a woman's lack of talent is virtue'—isn't it just that you can't measure up?"
