Wong Sing, his wives to be. Others vow to ten thousand. But why quarrel over a difference of a few thousand wives. The point is that they were numerous. Wong Sing was out of pocket several tons of gold for the construction of a wing to the palace for housing them all. Probably fifteen thousand was the correct figure.
Surely, the worst guesser in the world would in time conclude that the beautiful Radiant Blossom was among the Emperor Wong's twenty thousand wives. Of a certainty she was. Radiant Blossom came to the palace in the month of Ripening Apricots. It was midwinter before she so much as glimpsed her lord and master, the Emperor. And then she saw him only for a moment, at a distance.
For Wong Sing was very like the old man—or was it a woman—who lived in a sandal—or whatever it was. He had so many wives he scarce knew what to do. And is it any wonder? Imagine a staid and settled old bachelor's sudden gain of five or thirty thousand—or more—wives. Poor Wong admitted
