I'm a third-rate agent, buried under thirty million in debt, and every entertainer I manage is a total flop.
My creditors said, "Tomorrow is your final deadline."
Then something went wrong with my left eye
I could see ghosts.
A songstress from the Republic of China era, her voice poisoned away, wanted to sing one more song.
A Southern Song poet, poor all his life, wanted people to hear his poem.
A cave guardian from Dunhuang, waiting for eighty years, wanted to say, "The scriptures were never lost."
I signed them.
No one knew that behind every entertainer I made famous stood a restless soul.
Later, an industry tycoon asked me, "What makes you think your company can compete with mine?"
I said, "I have five thousand years behind me."
