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Happy is quite pleased with its little domain. How vast the world of men may be, how vast the Jiangnan State... it does not know, and it does not care. Each day it gazes out at the setting sun from atop the temple roof, and it seems to it that even the sun itself is nothing more than some great bird's egg. Gods and mortals alike come and go beneath its paws. Some weep, some laugh, some tread with extreme caution, some stumble and curse their fate, some with hair turning from black to white, and some simply never appear again... Now and then Happy rolls itself over, belly turned up toward the sky, ears letting the sutras flow past its fur like running water. Through these ages it has passed, drifting again and again through the wheel of birth and death, watching all beings among gods, men, and the three lower realms, all bound by compassion and by cause and consequence, as fleeting as the moon upon the water, or a flower within a mirror.