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The story is about a king who rules a vast kingdom that stretches along rivers and covers the entire world. One evening, while sitting by a river, the king hears a sad song being sung by two monks in a language that is no longer familiar to the younger people in his kingdom. There once was a king. No, this king's kingdom was far-flung, stretching along the banks of every winding river and spreading into all the angles of the world. Almost everything. One evening, he was sitting on the bank of his longest river, watching the sun sink behind the weeping willows. Only they weren't nightingales. They were two monks ringing a tinkling bell, singing a sad, lingering song in a strange tongue no longer known among the younger subjects of his far-flung kingdom.