While Ren Zu sat frozen like a statue on the peak, clutching the invisible light of Faith in his mind, his children were moving.
They were the first children of humanity, the direct descendants of the Ancestor's eyes, and they possessed a vitality that the world had never seen before. They did not just walk through the world; they changed it with their presence.
Verdant Great Sun was the incarnation of Ren Zu's left eye. He was a man of golden vitality, a being of pure Yang.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and radiant. His hair flowed like liquid gold, and his skin radiated a constant, gentle heat. Wherever he went, the darkness fled.
When he walked through the forests, the flowers would bloom instantly, tricked into thinking it was noon.
When he walked across the rivers, the water would warm up, and the fish would leap in excitement.
He was loud, boisterous, and full of life. He was the embodiment of Action.
Desolate Ancient Moon was the incarnation of Ren Zu's right eye. She was a woman of silver mystery, a being of pure Yin.
She was slender, graceful, and silent. Her hair was the color of the midnight sky, speckled with starlight, and her skin was as pale and cool as frost. Wherever she went, a hush fell over the world.
When she walked through the forests, the crickets would begin to chirp, and the nocturnal beasts would wake.
When she walked across the rivers, a thin layer of mist would rise, obscuring the path in a beautiful, melancholic fog.
She was quiet, observant, and full of secrets. She was the embodiment of Reflection.
Because they were the only two humans of their generation—the only two beings in the vast wilderness who walked on two legs and spoke the language of Ren Zu—they were inseparable.
Verdant Great Sun was always with Desolate Ancient Moon.
They explored the valleys where giant beasts slept. They climbed the cliffs where the eagles nested. They ate wild fruits together, sharing the sweet juice. They slept near each other, the golden heat of the brother protecting the sister from the cold, and the silver coolness of the sister soothing the brother's fire.
Over time, as the seasons turned and they grew from the manifestations of eyes into fully realized beings, this close association bred a strange fruit.
Verdant Great Sun began to look at his sister differently.
He stopped looking at the scenery and started looking at her. He watched how the moonlight caught in her dark hair. He watched the elegant curve of her neck as she drank from a stream. He admired her pale skin, which seemed so fragile yet so enduring. He admired her deep eyes, which held the silence of the galaxy.
He realized that while he was the Sun, shining brightly for everyone, she was a mystery that he wanted to solve.
A deep, burning desire took root in his golden heart. It was not just familial love; it was a yearning for union. It was the primal urge of the Yang to seek the Yin, to complete the circle.
One day, as they sat by a field of wildflowers, Verdant Great Sun could contain it no longer.
"Sister," Verdant Great Sun said.
He turned to her, his face flushing with a golden hue that made the air around them shimmer with heat. He reached out and took her cool hand in his warm ones.
"Look at us," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "We are the only two. The beasts have their mates. The birds have their pairs. Even the trees grow with their roots intertwined."
"We are the only humans in this vast world," he declared. "Let us unite. Let us become one. Let my fire warm your ice, and let your silence calm my noise. Together, we can be complete."
It was a proposal of marriage, the first in human history.
But Desolate Ancient Moon did not blush. She did not smile.
She looked at him with eyes that were like deep pools of ice water—clear, beautiful, and chillingly distant. She gently, but firmly, pulled her hand away from his grip.
"No," Desolate Ancient Moon said. Her voice was soft, but it had the finality of a closing door.
"Why?" Verdant Great Sun asked, stunned. "Am I not strong? Am I not bright?"
"You are too bright," she whispered. She looked up at the sky. "You are the Sun, and I am the Moon. It is the law of the Great Dao. When the Sun rises, the Moon must fade. When the Moon shines, the Sun must sleep."
"We can walk together as brother and sister," she pronounced, "but we cannot merge. Fire and Ice cannot share a bed without one destroying the other."
She stood up and walked away, trailing a mist of rejection behind her.
Verdant Great Sun was left sitting in the flowers, his golden light dimming with confusion.
He was the eldest son of Ren Zu. He possessed the Strength of his father's finger and the Vision of his father's eye. He possessed pride and vitality. He had never been denied anything; the world usually bent to his warmth.
Rejection tasted sour to him. It tasted like ash.
"She does not understand," Verdant Great Sun told himself. "She thinks we are incompatible. I must prove to her that I am worthy. I must show her that my fire can protect her, not burn her."
He began a relentless campaign of wooing.
He tried Gifts.
He traveled to the scorching deserts to find the Solar Sunflower, a flower made of pure flames. He brought it to her, thinking she would admire its brilliance.
But Desolate Ancient Moon merely frowned. "It is too hot," she said, and with a wave of her hand, the flower wilted into frost.
He tried Bravery.
He found a Thunder Boar, a massive beast terrorizing the valley. He fought it for three hours, his golden hair blazing like a mane. He killed the beast and dragged its massive tusk to her feet, bleeding and proud.
But Desolate Ancient Moon looked at the carcass with sadness. "Violence is loud," she said. "I prefer the quiet."
He tried Art.
He sat beneath her window (which was a cave entrance) and sang songs. His voice was powerful, shaking the leaves. He sang of his love, of his heat, of his power.
But Desolate Ancient Moon plugged her ears. "You are disturbing the sleep of the crickets," she said.
Her heart remained closed. It was a fortress of ice that no amount of fire could melt.
Verdant Great Sun grew frustrated. The annoyance bubbled in his chest like magma. He was doing everything right, everything a man should do, yet he was failing.
"I need help," Verdant Great Sun realized one night, sitting alone by a campfire that felt cold compared to his loneliness.
"I do not know how to open a heart."
He thought of the stories his father, Ren Zu, had told him before he went blind. He thought of the legendary Gu that had escaped the Net of Law.
"Wisdom Gu," Verdant Great Sun murmured. "Wisdom knows all. Wisdom knows the logic of the world. Surely, Wisdom knows the logic of a woman's heart."
He stood up, kicking the fire out. "I will find Wisdom."
The next morning, he left his sister's side and began his hunt.
He found Wisdom Gu in a valley of flowers, floating aimlessly among the petals, drinking the nectar of experience.
"Wisdom!" Verdant Great Sun shouted, rushing forward.
But Wisdom Gu was slippery. It saw the golden man coming and knew instantly what he wanted. Humans, Wisdom thought. Always demanding answers to questions they should solve themselves.
Wisdom Gu fluttered its wings and vanished into the bushes.
Verdant Great Sun did not give up. He was the Sun; he had endurance.
"You cannot hide from the light!" he roared.
He chased Wisdom Gu for three days and three nights.
When Wisdom Gu hid in a dark cave, Verdant Great Sun walked in, his body glowing so brightly that the shadows fled, exposing the Gu.
When Wisdom Gu hid in the dense canopy of the forest, Verdant Great Sun climbed the tallest tree, his heat making the leaves curl back, revealing the Gu.
He never stopped. He never slept. He never ate. His desire fueled his legs.
Finally, Wisdom Gu couldn't endure the annoyance anymore. It was tired of being illuminated. It was tired of the heat.
It stopped on a high branch of an ancient oak tree. It folded its shimmering, crystalline wings and looked down at the panting, sweating golden man.
"Young human," Wisdom Gu spoke, its voice cool and detached. "Why do you chase me? I have no honey for you. I have no strength for you."
Verdant Great Sun fell to his knees, gasping for breath.
"I do not want strength," he pleaded, looking up with eyes full of desperation. "I have enough strength to kill a tiger, but not enough to win a smile."
"I want to know how to win the love of Desolate Ancient Moon," Verdant Great Sun confessed. "I want to know the secret to opening a closed heart."
Wisdom Gu looked at him. It saw the raw, chaotic energy of the human. It saw the foolishness of trying to force the Sun and Moon to merge. But it also saw the potential for a lesson—a lesson about the nature of life itself.
Wisdom Gu's wings shimmered with profound light, calculating the trajectory of fate.
It did not give him a direct answer. Wisdom rarely gives answers; it gives paths.
"To understand love," Wisdom Gu said, its voice echoing in the valley, "you must first understand Life. Love is not a singular emotion; it is a mixture of flavors."
"You are too simple, Verdant Great Sun. You only know heat. You only know sweet. You do not know the complexity of the soul."
Wisdom Gu raised a wing, pointing toward the sunrise.
"In the East," Wisdom Gu instructed, "there dwells a group of Honey Peach Monkeys. They are masters of fermentation. They know the secret of brewing wine."
"Go," Wisdom Gu commanded. "Go drink the wine brewed by them. Taste it, understand it, and then come find me. Only when you have tasted the wine of the world can you hope to taste the wine of love."
Verdant Great Sun stood at the edge of the Valley of Flowers, the petals brushing against his golden robes like the fingers of lovers. Behind him, Wisdom Gu perched silently on the gnarled branch of an ancient tree, its compound eyes shimmering with a light that seemed to dissect the very soul of the young man.
Verdant Great Sun's heart burned. It was not the fire of anger, but the agonizing, unquenchable fire of unrequited love. He thought of Desolate Ancient Moon—her cold skin, her silent rejection, the way she looked at the moon instead of him.
"I do not understand," Verdant Great Sun said, his voice tight with frustration. "I am the Sun. I give light to the world. Why does she refuse to be warm? Wisdom, why must I drink wine to understand a woman?"
Wisdom Gu did not flutter its wings. It merely gazed at him. "You are full of vitality, Human, but you are empty of experience. You think Love is a battle to be won with strength, or a flower to be plucked with beauty. But Love is a flavor. Go. Taste the world, and you will taste her heart."
"I will return," Verdant Great Sun vowed. "And when I do, I will know the secret."
He turned his back on the valley. The wind pulled at his golden hair as he took his first step toward the East.