Drinking and Laughing at the Three Thousand

He didn't tell her that he had run more than ten miles and crossed several mountains to find her a jar of clean water. He didn't tell her that Taoist priests had chased him along the way, and that he'd kept one hand protecting the water the whole time, unable to fight back for fear of spilling it... Even if he didn't say it, she understood. No, perhaps she still didn't understand. But beneath the bodhi tree, the pretty young woman bent down, took a damp cloth, and gently wiped the dust from the boy's face. Come along, come along, gather round. Listen to Third Master tell a story. I'll laugh with you through a thousand drinking bouts. No need to speak of parting.