To her, black and white were distinct, as were favors and feuds. For every feud, a knot was tied; for every fa…
To her, black and white were distinct, as were favors and feuds.
For every feud, a knot was tied; for every favor, a knot was undone.
Favors and feuds, knots and unravelings, began with the initial bond across a thousand miles and alternated on the same old rope. Favors were repaid with life, and feuds were settled with death.
A simple counting game:
One: What good could an Emperor ever have?
Two: A feast of betrayal; truly a villain.
Three: Betraying an old master and abandoning old friends; an ungrateful wretch.
Four: Insatiable greed to establish a private treasury... As they say, what good could an Emperor ever have?
Five days and nights, from a thousand miles of gratitude to a thousand miles of revenge.
Four: This mountain used to be a bandit camp; now it is an orchard.
Three: This field used to be a wasteland; now it is a village.
Two: This city used to be scorched earth; now it is filled with the smoke of hearths.
Still, there is one.
Old feelings, old matters, old friends.
Whenever the word "old" is added, it seems to grant a touch of absolution.
If the human heart is a hemp rope, it is often tangled in chaos by these "old" words.
But using a rope to represent the heart is simple. The rope may be old, but the counting remains clear.
Thus, life and death are also clear.