I had never had my hair cut since birth. It had grown so long that it dragged on the ground. But I never knew that the moment I cut it, misfortune would cling to me at every turn...
A corpse that couldn't be cremated; a dead old man's head dangling as he chatted with me; women who had died unnatural deaths vying to make me their yin vessel; a weasel in the remote mountains swearing brotherhood with me; seeing myself onstage singing the story of Hua Mulan joining the army while watching a play... None of it could be separated from the word “uncanny.” Everything seemed simple, yet it was all connected, one link after another...
Who am I, really? Why does everything revolve around me?
