Qin song

My condolences, sir.
I'm playing f or Y ueyang.
Eunuch, your not-male,
not-f emale hands...

have polluted my tune.
We eunuchs cannot compare
with you, sir.

Your passion made Y ueyang...
such a thorn in his side...
that Wang Ben soaked
the bridal chamber in blood.

I was only able
to lend a hand.

I killed him
and jailed his father.

I suppose
I have avenged you, sir.

In fact, Y ueyang tried
to commit suicide.

She bit off her own tongue.
It's Y ueyang's hands.
You keep them.
So many murders.
What a storm.

If it goes on like this...
the ceremony
will be rained out.

Such a bad omen
f or the empire.

What can we do?