Kong was the only long-gown customer to drink his wine standing.
He was a big man, strangely pallid, with scars that often showed among the wrinkles of his face.
He had a large, unkempt beard, streaked with white.
Although he wore a long gown, it was dirty and tattered,
and looked as if it had not been washed or mended for over ten years.
He used so many archaisms in his speech, it was impossible to understand half of what he said.
He was nicknamed Kong Yiji.
I'm David Rennie, the Economist's Beijing bureau chief,
and I'm here with Alice Su, our senior China correspondent based in Taipei.
This week, we're talking about the story of Kong Yiji,
written in 1918 by one of China's greatest writers, Lu Xun.
From gossip, I heard that Kong Yiji had studied the classics, but had never passed the official examination.
With no way of making a living, he grew poorer and poorer,
until he was practically reduced to beggary.
This week, we're asking why has this 100-year-old short story caused an argument
This is Drum Tower.
From The Economist.
Alice, how are you doing? How was your week?
Hey David, I am well.
My week was very good, I've had a friend visiting Taiwan for the first time