On the threshold, there was a mark pressed by the baby.
When he was five years old, he slaughtered a village and pulled out a little girl from among the dead.
Go all the way south.
Been kicked out, cheated, sold.
Good people died in front of him one by one, and he carried their words on his back.
He relies on a pair of eyes that can "know it after just one look"
He has cured beggars, saved dignitaries, overcome plagues, and overturned old cases.
By the time he returned to that threshold, he had walked for twenty-two years.
But the marks on his wrists were still there.
His mother was afraid that he would cry, so she tied it with strips of cloth.
