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I’m willing to take the place of the white goose to offer my flesh to feed you. But your sickle must cut off exactly four catties, eight taels and two maces of flesh off my arm, no more, no less. You’ll also have to lick the blood off the sickle clean with your tongue. Not a drop of blood is to drip to the ground. What if I didn’t cut the exact weight? Or accidentally dripped blood onto the ground? Then, from now on you will have to live on fruit alone. And never kill any sentient beings henceforth. If you can comply with this condition, come! You! Start cutting now!
