(April, 14th)
Unit Fourteen The Lord and the Hermit
Once upon a time there was a rapacious lord. He was relentless to his tenants and quelled them by placing quotas to their living condition. Soon he collected quantitatively great revenue and lived in a radiate palace. He was also renowned for his queer clothes.
One day the lord’s disease relapsed, so he rallied his subordinates for help. One of them said: “I’ve heard of a recluse who knows regimen well residing nearby. Why not visit his residence for help?” Another retorted: “Be prudent, maybe it is only a rumor.” But the rash lord was filled with rapture and ratified the visiting plan.
On the next Sunday, the lord purged himself, held a quaint rite and started for the hermit’s home. They passed rugged rustic passages full of paddles and the lord almost recoiled. Finally they arrived. The lord felt disappointed at the recluse’s reception, but he wouldn’t relinquish the chance and talked to the hermit with reverence.
The hermit ruminated and reverted to the main topic in a pungent voice: “I’ve heard lots of your ravenous deeds. You retract the land you’ve distributed to the farmers and order them to redeem their land. You must redress your guilt and rehabilitate their freedom. Reimburse their respective debts and build refuge for them. You can retain the residue of your property.”
The lord was reluctant to renounce his wealth and be rent from his palace. He rebuked: “Your advice is too reckless. I’m resolute not to accept it.”
“Why so repulsive? You cannot repudiate my words.” The hermit reiterated his suggestion and its resonance echoed. “Remit their taxes with rebates, or a riot is imminent.”
The lord again refuted. At last he went back in remorse.
(April, 15th)
Unit Fifteen Watching the Execution
It is reported that two seer criminals were to be executed in the town center today, and spontaneous spectators have gathered around the sedate square in sporadic groups fore fear of solitude. They skimmed the sardonic slogans pasted on the walls about those social slags. The air was solemn and sensuous.
Soon several policemen came from the stall as speculated, shoving two criminals saddled by shackles. As they walked around the sloppy slope, people shunned them because they’re thought to be sinister. Then the executioner began to scrutinize the criminals that had been kept in seclusion for days, his face steadfast and his rifle shined with splendor.
The first criminal was a murderer who had smothered a boy. The police was not sluggish at all and pushed him forward without scruple. As the executioner drew his sword and it slumped, the criminal’s neck snapped, and his head was severed from the body. Blood spouted from the gush and sprayed onto the ground. Some watchers’ clothes were smeared and spewed at the terrible scene. The executioner sheathed his sword and shouted: “Next one.”
The second was a sly cheater who obtained $100,000 through one solitary method. He solicited: “I fear the savor of sword. Kill me with a rifle, please.” “No, it squanders bullets.” Replied the executioner with sarcasm. “You’re too skimpy,” said the criminal in a satirical tone, “please satiate my last will.” After some squabbling he was satisfied.
The executioner fired at the criminal’s spleen. Blood spurted out, like sprouting flower. The criminal was still sober and felt seared. The bullet singed his body and killed him without much snag.
The police then gave the spectators lots of sermon but nobody listened. I collected a bullet shell and scooped some blood sediment up from the ground as a souvenir, then returned home without sojourn.
