A story about love and power.
Prologue
Xiao Ru, are you all right? Where are you? Can you hear me?
I killed you. I killed you with my own hands! Because I love you!
I love you, so I had to kill you!
If I didn't love you, I would never have had the guts or courage to kill you, like all the other men.
Beneath an ancient tree a thousand years old in the marketplace, an old man was telling a story.
His voice was deep and steady, neither hurried nor slow, with hardly any rise or fall. But as a storyteller, he was clearly a failure. Aside from a little girl of about ten beside him, he had not a single listener.
Is my story good?
No.
Then why don't you leave, like everyone else?
Because the beautiful older sister in your story is called Xiao Ru. And so am I.
Xiao Ru! Xiao Ru!
Did that Xiao Ru really die?
Yes!
Was she really killed by her lover?
Yes!
Why did her lover kill her? Didn't he love her?
Yes! He loved her!
Why kill her if he loved her? I don't understand.
I don't understand either.
This story is no good. I don't like it.
I don't like it either.
