# The Affinity of Wood *(Note: As the provided text is only the title, the translation above follows academic conventions for *Yijing*-related terminology. If additional content is provided, the translation will adhere strictly to all specified requirements.)*
In ancient times, there lived a young carpenter in the water towns of the Jiangnan region. The lad was handsome, with sharp eyebrows and bright eyes, and a sturdy build. His woodworking skills were superb—when he made furniture, not a single mortise was ever off, and his carved patterns were so lifelike they seemed ready to move. But he was far too impatient, as if a spring were coiled beneath his seat. He wanted to accomplish everything in one go, with not a shred of patience. Seeing his impetuous, rushing manner, the neighbors secretly called him "Impetuous Monkey." He didn’t take offense, though; he always believed that with his craftsmanship, there was nothing in the world he couldn’t achieve. He walked with an air of arrogance, as if he’d become a great shopkeeper by tomorrow.
The owner of a cloth shop in town had a daughter, as fresh and pretty as a freshly peeled water chestnut, with two dimples when she smiled. The carpenter fell for her at first sight. Every day he loitered at the entrance of the cloth shop, twisting a newly carved wooden hairpin in his hand—he wanted to give it to her but didn’t dare, so anxious he could barely sit still. The cloth shop owner looked down on him for being poor, thinking he didn’t even have a proper shop of his own, and that doing odd jobs was no way to make a stable living. As for the daughter, seeing him hang around the entrance every day with his eyes fixed straight ahead, she thought he was clumsy and reckless, and felt uneasy about him.
The carpenter could hold back no longer. He took two bottles of cheap wine and went straight to the cloth shop to propose marriage. The cloth shop owner sat in his grand armchair, holding a teacup, and didn’t even lift his eyelids. "You don’t even have a proper shop. What do you have to marry my daughter with?" The carpenter grew anxious, thumped his chest, and said, "I’m skilled at my craft. I can make three pieces of furniture a day—I can definitely support her!" The owner gave a cold sneer. "Can doing odd jobs your whole life make you rich?" From behind the screen, the daughter mumbled softly, "You’re too hasty, and you have a bad temper. I’d be scared to live with you." Furious, the carpenter slammed the door and left.
He scraped together money from here and there to rent a run-down shop, but then days of continuous rain soaked and warped all the furniture he’d just made. His fellow craftsmen laughed at him, and the cloth shop owner sent the wine straight back. In a rage, he smashed pieces of wood in his shop, swinging his axe wildly, then plopped down in the muddy water, overwhelmed with regret.
His master, a blind old carpenter, felt his way into the shop with a cane, squatted down, and ran his hands over the water-damaged wood. Slowly, he said, "Boy, bricks fresh from the kiln can’t be used to build a tall building right away. A dragon whose scales haven’t fully grown must first coil at the bottom of the water. You haven’t even figured out her likes and dislikes, yet you’re in such a hurry to show off? Calm your heart. When the water flows, the canal will form naturally."
The carpenter stopped rushing to propose marriage. When the cloth shop’s doors and windows broke, he quietly went to fix them; when the shelves tilted, he secretly reinforced them. He never boasted of his merits or confessed his feelings—he just brushed off the wood shavings and left after finishing the work. The owner saw he was steady and reliable, and the daughter saw he was careful and attentive. Occasionally, after he finished work, the daughter would blush and hand him a bowl of iced sour plum soup. The two would smile at each other, all their feelings unspoken.
Later, the cloth shop owner主动 invited a matchmaker to propose on the carpenter’s behalf, and married his daughter to him in a grand ceremony. The storyteller sighed: Matters of the heart cannot be rushed. *Qian long wu yong* (The hidden dragon does not act) — it does not mean you should do nothing, but that you should put in the effort in secret, and let your roots grow deep. When the wind comes, success will follow naturally, as water flows into a canal.