The east wind blows the rain painfully cold, begrudgingly withholding spring's brightness.
Ten thousand flowers remain unseen, idle worries occupy too many thoughts.
Ren Zhongqing really disliked rainy days, especially this continuous spring rain that made everything feel damp and gloomy, the sky obscured by gray. But he loved reciting poems, especially those well-written yet obscure ones, seldom read by others.
In the fairy tales he read as a child, those immortal masters always liked to recite a poem upon their entrance, as if that was the only way to match their profound status.
Since the age of eighteen, his favorite line was, "Even Master Xuan feared the youth, a man should not underestimate a young man."
Whenever he recited it in his heart, he felt more in tune with its meaning, which was essentially, "Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river, never underestimate a poor young man," but this plain phrase had become too common.
