A country scholar in red, fledgling, hard to tame. In the gazebo at night, the old gods toast, who will be the guest? The old master glared, and the evil monk chanted. The scholar folded his pen with his wrist sleeve, and the mountains and rivers and iron scrolls pressed the gods to their knees. Many years later , a boy riding a bull, looking east from a dangerous building, drawing his sword and raising his eyebrows, shaking the heavens and the earth.