Filial piety is as sacred as heaven, as heavy as law.
Yao grew his hair long in honor of his ancestors. It used to sweep past his shoulders, past his lower back, past his thighs and it continued to grow. He relished the feel of his hair, each strand as heavy with meaning as the rest.
And as each strand was cut, torn from his own body, he felt the weight of guilt and pain. With each strand lost he could see everything he had lived for, everything he had fought for, vanish so simply. It was like blowing away smoke as it rose from his pipe. So easily gone.
How easily it was torn from his body, the body he was given so tenderly.
Yao covered his face with his hands, unable to bear the weight inside.
He lowered himself to the ground, praying so profusely.
He felt the last strand of his hair being cut, and released one last painful cry; as pitiful as an old dying lion starving away his last years.
"It is done."
(APH)
I read that in China (in a certain period of time) hair was kept long, because they believed that cutting your hair was like cutting what your parents had given you. And since filial piety is really important in Asia...well...