In the ancient time, the title "boshi" referred to an official scholar responsible for teaching and transmitting classical studies.

These scholars were highly learned Confucians, often known for their meticulous attention to wording and their fondness for elaborate expressions.

One day, a scholar went to a market to buy a donkey.

According to the customs of the time, the purchase of a large domestic animal required a written contract, which recorded the details of the transaction.

The scholar spread out a sheet of paper, picked up his brush, and began writing the contract with great seriousness.

Drawing on classical references and searching for refined expressions, he wrote page after page.

The seller, who was waiting to hand over the donkey, and the impatient onlookers watched as he filled one sheet, then another, then a third. Yet he showed no sign of stopping.

At last, the scholar put down his brush and proudly began reading aloud his beautifully crafted contract, filled with elegant phrases and perfectly balanced sentences. But everyone around him was left speechless.

The reason was astonishing: in the entire three pages he had written, there was not even a single mention of the word "donkey." Instead, the contract was filled with discussions of astronomy, geography, historical events, and classical allusions.

It described everything except the actual transaction -- what was being bought, how much it cost, or even the donkey's age, color, or other details.