This is the moment that the executioner plunges his long knife in the tortured criminal's heart, giving him the merciful deathblow. Why, then, do you, fearful shadow, insist on prolonging my agony, you who call yourself by the name of a flower? Why do you want to tear my heart to pieces, by forcing me to kill the soul of my poor daughter? She never committed any crime, she never knew… Yes, I hear you, terrible woman; you say that I still must write, write down everything, so that my daughter shall know. Tell her how Heaven denied me a quick, self-chosen end, and condemned me to a slow death of agony in your cruel hands. And that after having granted me one brief glance of… what could have been.

Yes, my daughter shall know. About meeting you on the shore of the lake, about the old tale you told me, all. But I swear that if there still be a Heaven above us, my daughter shall forgive me; a traitor and a murderer she shall forgive, I tell you. But not you! Not you, because you are only hate, hate incarnate, and you shall die together with me, die forever. No, don't pull away my hand now; you said "Write!" and write I shall. May Heaven have mercy on me and… yes, also on you. For now-too late-I recognize you for what you really are, and I know that you never come uninvited. You haunt and torture to death only those who have called you up by their own dark deeds.

This, then, is what happened.

The Court had directed me to Han-yuan, to investigate a complicated case of embezzlement of government funds; it was suspected that the local authorities were involved. You will remember that this year spring came early. A feeling of expectancy was vibrating in the warm air; in a reckless mood I had even thought of taking my daughter along with me on that trip to Han-yuan. But that mood passed, and I took Chrysanthemum, my youngest concubine, with me instead. I thus hoped to restore peace to my tormented soul, for Chrysanthemum had been very dear to me-before. When I had arrived in Han-yuan, however, I realized that it had been an idle hope. She whom I had left behind was more than ever with me. Her image stood between us; I couldn't even bring myself to touch Chrysanthemum's poor slender hand.