“Wealth both causes and cures corruption.
The world never lets us hide for long, that’s true,
but I am hiding with wealth I have received from them, and yes, even from you,
and by all standards I believe I am good.”
Fuxiang, the wise, waved his hand
to indicate his secluded grotto of carpets and comforts
in which he and his younger brother sat.
“I cherish wisdom over effort.”
He pointed to the statue of a cat.
“Stolen during the Revolution, the thief,
who stored it here, was murdered by the state.
Now it is mine.
It is so beautiful.” He paused as they looked.
“Isn’t it fine?
I don’t need a real cat.
It needs feeding, it destroys your furniture, it sheds.”
Fuxiang’s brother was overwhelmed
by the apartment’s art and hanging carpets, the multiple yellows and reds.
He decided he couldn’t ask for what he wanted.
Before he left, he told a lie
and stumbled at the door, and had to introduce his story twice.
“I recently carved a cat in the act of catching its prey.
My family hates it.
But since I put it in the kitchen, we haven’t seen any mice.”