The autumn wind was bleak, and at the mere age of thirty, Xu Yong was appreciating the moon in a cool pavilion.
He had grown out his beard, which lent him a rather scholarly and refined air.
Revering the dawn and cautious by dusk, he had established the foundation of his enterprise.
Now his eldest son, who was already in his teens, was being brought up quite satisfactorily.
He firmly remembered the teachings of his elder brother: better to remain unnoticed than to stand out, and to play the role of a "loyal official" whenever possible.
When the heavens should crumble, there would surely come an opportunity for transformation.
As for his progeny, of course, the more he could have the better, and at present, he already had seven sons.
He had no desire to see his enterprise fall to ruin due to the premature death of an heir.
No sooner had he found a moment of leisure than his subordinates came to report on their work.
