Moving as swiftly as a duck, floating as if divine, treading water with subtle steps, and dust rising from gauze socks. Glancing with shifting radiance, a face of lustrous jade. Words not yet spoken, breath like the orchid’s scent. Graceful and charming, making me forget my meal. — Cao Zhi, 'Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River'
The master's daughter—add one part and she's too tall, subtract one part and she's too short; powder makes her too pale, rouge makes her too red. Her brows are like kingfisher feathers, her skin like white snow, her waist like bundled white silk, her teeth like seashells. With a single sweet smile, she beguiles Yangcheng and bewitches Xiacai.
—Song Yu, "Rhapsody on the Lecherous Master Dengtu"
A peerless beauty, a lady fair, dwells in solitude in a deserted valley. She claims to be of a good family, fallen on hard times among the grass and trees...
She plucks flowers but wears none in her hair; gathers cypress branches till her hands are full. The cold weather thins her green sleeves; at dusk she leans against slender bamboo.
—Li Bai, "The Fair Lady"
“Wudao, do you think a man would like a woman who's too strong and too independent？” Yang Ningsu blurted out an irrelevant question, her eyes misty and sad.
Although she didn't think this person who was almost her closest relative would give her any answer, she had gotten used to pouring out her innermost feelings to him. Over the years, so many people had pursued her—too many to count, a dazzling array that left her visually exhausted—but she had no one to confide in. Maybe she was too aloof, maybe it was just her nature; since junior high, she'd never had a truly close friend, and in university she hadn't dated either. So she always liked to “vent” to Ye Wudao.
Before Ye Wudao could answer, Yang Ningsu laughed heartily, as if all her unhappiness had vanished into thin air. Her face lit up again with a smile as she said, “Since you haven't seen me for so long, little auntie, have you missed me？”
Ye Wudao keenly caught the deliberately hidden sadness and worry in Yang Ningsu's eyes and asked softly, “Little aunt, did Grandpa set you up with someone again？”
Yang Ningsu was already twenty-seven. In Chinese tradition, men should marry and women should wed—that's the way of things. Yang Wangzhen was no exception. No wonder Ye Wudao's political science teacher, who advocated Western Christian civilization, always said the only virtue of Confucianism was that "there are three unfilial acts, and the greatest is having no descendants"—this had ensured the reproduction of the Chinese people for thousands of years, preventing their extinction through countless wars.
Yang Ningsu sighed, looking pleased by Ye Wudao's concern. A hint of genuine smile crept onto her lips as she said, "Yeah！ It's almost like they've sent down 'thirteen royal summons.' If I don't show some sign next week, I'm afraid I won't even dare to go home！"
"Then stay in my room！ It doesn't matter having one more person anyway." Ye Wudao blurted out. Yang Ningsu paused, then laughed, "You little kid！"
Ye Wudao suddenly turned serious, "Aunt, isn't there a single man who's caught your eye？ You've met so many people and been to so many places, there can't be none that you liked at all, right？ Are all the good men in China dead？"
Yang Ningsu showed a thoughtful and entranced expression, tinged with sadness as she said, "There should be one, but we had neither fate nor fortune. Missed is missed. Though it's a bit sad, there's nothing to regret, because he's not the kind of man who would make me fall in love. Maybe he'd make a better marriage partner, but for someone like me who puts love above all, lacking that 'spark' is absolutely unbearable."
"Then he must be quite extraordinary. I wonder what the true face of this man my aunt acknowledges looks like？" Ye Wudao said jealously.
"He's the most outstanding man I've ever met, a bold guy who dares to argue tit for tat with solid reasoning even in front of my father—ambitious, domineering." Yang Ningsu shot a glance at Ye Wudao, "Anyway, he's way better than a playboy like you."
Seeing Ye Wudao both sullen and jealous, Yang Ningsu felt a surge of affection, gently stroking his head and said softly： 'Actually, you two are polar opposites. He's the type of person who clings to things almost to the extreme—once he sets his mind on something, he really will slay gods when met and slay demons when encountered. That's exactly why he could rise from a nobody to a big shot with real power, relying solely on his own strength. As for you, you're practically a reincarnation of Jia Baoyu, drowning yourself in a sea of women all day. Hanging around with them has worn away the edge in our two families' bloodlines. But you lose at sunrise and gain at sunset—in the future, you'll have the potential to drive women crazy with obsession.'
Ye Wudao grumbled： 'It's still you who makes me flip through women's fashion magazines every day and practice that so-called aristocratic elegance. I have to be noble, I have to be refined—where's the room left for a dominant aura?'
The 'culprit' Ye Wudao was talking about grabbed his ear in a totally unladylike manner and said： 'You've got complaints? You're the one wallowing among the flowers, too happy to go home. I made you dig deep into fashion, fine wine, movies, and all these trendy classics just so you'd have an easier time sweet-talking girls later on. Good intentions, and you treat them like a donkey's liver！'
Ye Wudao quickly pleaded guilty： 'Yes, yes, yes！ Your great sacrifices are plain to see by the masses. Go on, how should I thank you？' Yang Ningsu spat and said： 'So insincere, all slick-tongued and smooth. You're just good at fooling those little girls—are you taking advantage of how easy they are to trick？'
'I'd rather trick a gorgeous woman like little aunt！' Ye Wudao buttered her up, while his eyes roamed unashamedly over Yang Ningsu's body—a body that tempted any man to sin. That look wasn't something a little boy should have; it was unmistakably the classic look of a classic pervert.
'A gorgeous woman?' Yang Ningsu laughed. 'Little aunt counts as a gorgeous woman? So what really qualifies as a beauty? Aren't you always boasting about being the world's number one romantic? You should have a standard for that, right?'
""Skin like congealed fat, teeth like broken jade, moth-like eyebrows and square forehead, cherry lips and peach cheeks' are the standards of classical Chinese beauty. In the Han dynasty, Li Yannian once sang： 'There's a beauty in the north, glance once and topple a city, glance again and topple a nation; would you not know toppling the nation and the city, making it hard to see her again.' Among all the women I've seen, the most classical beauty is that little girl Murong Xuehen. Mom never relies on others; she's a typical independent woman of this era, independent not only economically but also mentally. Generally speaking, it's impossible for Mom to act like a clingy little bird, so even though she has stunning looks and noble bearing, she's still not a classical beauty！"
Yang Ningsu nodded with a smile, not expecting this Wudao to actually talk with such logic.
Ye Wudao spoke eloquently, "Generally speaking, Eastern women are reserved, like a pearl with soft luster, round like jade, slowly releasing their charm. But Western women are dazzling like diamonds, and even their beauty carries a touch of aggressiveness that stings your eyes. Of course, this is just a general trend-for instance, who dares to say Audrey Hepburn isn't reserved and elegant enough？"
"Then the concept of beauty is too abstract. Can you be more specific？" Yang Ningsu asked with interest. It's true that a woman's curiosity can kill a cat.
Ye Wudao, deeply versed in the 'art of fishing,' naturally wouldn't ignore this weakness in women.