In the illustrious reign of the Emperor Shen-ming, there lived in the city of Lo-yang a storyteller named Kai Lung, whose tales were as golden as the silks of the Imperial Palace.

Kai Lung unrolled his mat in the marketplace, where merchants and scholars alike gathered to hear his honeyed words. On this day, a mandarin of the sixth rank approached, his robes whispering of authority.

'Kai Lung,' spoke the mandarin, 'I have heard your voice can sway even the gods. Prove it. Tell a tale that will make my cynical heart believe in loyalty once more.'

Kai Lung bowed thrice. He spoke of a concubine who sacrificed her place in the palace to save a servant she barely knew, and of a general who walked into enemy territory unarmed to honor a truce.

When the tale ended, the mandarin's eyes glistened. 'You have not only told a story,' he whispered, 'you have restored something I thought forever lost.' Kai Lung smiled and rolled up his mat.