“When did I ever do such a thing?” said Bao-yu indignantly. “[…] I fully realize that poems written in the privacy of the women’s quarters are not lightly to be passed around outside. Ever since you spoke to me about it, I have been careful not to carry that [poetry-inscribed] fan with me anywhere but inside the Garden.”
“Cousin Lin is right to be worried,” said Bao-chai. “Now that the poems are written on that fan, there is always the possibility that you might one day forget and carry it with you to your room outside. Suppose Uncle’s literary gentlemen were to see it there, they would be sure to ask you who the poems were by. If as a result of that they were to become public property, it would be extremely unpleasant for us. ‘A stupid women is a virtuous one’: that is what the old proverb says. A girl’s first concern is to be virtuous, her second is to be industrious. She may write poetry if she likes as a diversion, but it is an accomplishment she could just as well do without. The last thing girls of a good family need is a literary reputation.” She paused and gave Dai-yu a smile. “There would be no harm in letting me see them of course.”
— Dream of the Red Chamber, chapter 64
