You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
Xuqing moves gracefully through the tent, as if dancing, until kneeling down on the cushion.
"Me? Oh, I'm really quite boring, but since you asked... I've traveled a long, long road to reach this place, leaving my life as a hermit in the mountains of Ai-Zho. And it has all been under the orders of my master - to collect stories and in turn, record the tales of life that are universal to all!" As he talks, he makes many gestures, moving in an almost animated way.
"My memories of my earlier years are hazy, but I don't know my true parents. I was taken in by my master, and it was just the two of us living in the mountains. Then, he said something about how I have to figure things out for myself... I don't have much of an interest in spiritual matters, but it's so exciting to see how other people live!"
"I just think- well- Isn't it so sad that I'll never be able to hear from everyone?" For a brief moment, he has a look of anguish, before pulling out a brush and ink, and unrolling a scroll.
He looks up at the hag, and, dipping his brush, declares, "Now, it's only fair you tell me yours!"
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