Jiutian Xuannü began, her voice resonating with ancient power, "A long time ago, when Nuwa created mortals, she also created gods and goddesses to help her take care of her creation. At that time, I asked Nuwa to create the most powerful god to protect the Demon Gate. Nuwa made Syaoran from my flesh and blood."
The large, shimmering mirror materialized by Jiutian Xuannü's hand flickered, then showed a very handsome man, in his thirties, and about five feet eleven inches tall. His skin was as white as snow. His hair was white, his eyebrows were white, and his eyes were a striking blue. He wore white from head to toe, and his two ears were delicately pointed, like an elf's.
"Syaoran's job was to defend the Northern Fortress in Horsemen Land," Jiutian Xuannü continued. "I was proud of the creation, and so was Nuwa. We gave him all five elements of power: Fire, Earth, Metal, Water, and Wood. Syaoran was the most powerful creature on earth at that time. Both demons and gods were afraid of him. The only mistake he made was to fall in love. That god is you, Ping'an."
The scene in the mirror shifted. Syaoran walked on a lonely path up the mountain when he encountered two dying flowers, struggling desperately to survive. They were the most beautiful flowers he had ever seen, their fading petals holding a delicate allure. He immediately fell in love with them. The thought of the two dying flowers saddened his heart. He sat down beside them, stroking their delicate petals tenderly.
Syaoran frowned, his voice a wistful murmur, "Something so beautiful, yet so short-lived. I would love to see and smell you two every day, but I am immortal. I will not age or die. Soon, your petals would fall off, you would become dirt. Your seeds would scatter and be replanted elsewhere, to enjoy a new atmosphere. I... I would still walk the same path, connected with the same fate." He took a deep breath and sighed, a profound weariness in his voice. "I envy mortals. They can choose whom to love and be loved by the person they desire in their hearts. One lifetime with someone you love, and they love you is enough."
Syaoran stood up and started walking away, but suddenly he turned around, his gaze drawn back to the two dying flowers. Then, a thought sparked within him, a revolutionary idea. He was immortal. Everything about him was immortal. His blood was immortal. If he watered the flowers with his blood, they would also become immortal. He could save them with his blood, and observe and smell them every day. They would be with him for eternity. He would not walk this path alone. He would no longer need to talk to his own shadow.
Syaoran took out a hairpin. With a swift movement, he cut open his left fingertips, and bright crimson blood dripped from his fingers onto the flowers. The flowers' color changed immediately. As he observed carefully, the two flowers brightened, their sweet purple hues gradually returning to their original vibrant color. A wide smile spread across his face, a joy he had not known in centuries. In the past thousand years, he had never felt so happy.
Syaoran smiled, a silent promise forming in his mind. "If we are destined to be each other's partners, you two must not die. If you two are still alive, I will bring you two home." He bent down and inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flowers. Then, with a lighter step than before, he walked away.
Syaoran went up Mount Tortoise. Once a month, he would visit his old friend Jingui. The two friends would play chess and enjoy their tea in quiet companionship.
Jingui, a wise and ancient thousand-year-old sea turtle, sensed something different about his longtime friend. On the fifteenth day of each month, when his friend came to play chess, Syaoran was always so gloomy, as if he carried the whole world on his back. Today, he was different. He was cheerful and had a genuine smile on his face, and his blue eyes were alive, sparkling when the direct sunlight hit their blue irises.
"Today, there is something different about you," Jingui said slowly, his voice calm and deep.
"Really?" Syaoran replied, trying to appear nonchalant, but refusing to make eye contact.
"You seem to be alive," Jingui observed, his ancient gaze studying Syaoran intently. "I have known you for a thousand years. I can feel when there is something different about you, old friend."
Syaoran gave his old friend a rare, genuine smile. Jingui never thought that one day he would see the fearsome Syaoran smile so freely.
"Tell me," Jingui asked, his voice gentle. "Would you like to share your happiness with your old friend? If there is a problem, I can help you. Two heads are better than one."
Syaoran smiled, a wistful note in his voice. "During my journey... I saw two dying flowers. They are the most beautiful of all other flowers." Then he frowned, a deeper question clouding his face. "We are all created the same way, breathing the same air. Why were some mortal and others not?"
Jingui replied, taking a slow sip of his tea. "Rules are rules. We don't set the rules. We live by the rules."
Syaoran tried to reason with Jingui, a desperate plea in his voice. "I know, but some people are immortal and others are mortal. This is unfair. After you die, I really won't have any friend who understands me like you. If I don't have a life partner to accompany me throughout my life, I hope those two flowers can be my life companions. I lived among the Horsemen, among the animals on the mountain, and I watched them die one by one. I want a soulmate who understands me." He paused, then confessed, "So, I decided to water the two flowers with my blood."
One needed a lot of patience when talking with Jingui. He spoke softly and slowly. He choked on his tea, coughed several times, and cleared his throat. He slowly shook his head, his gaze unwavering as he looked at Syaoran.
"You are immortal," Jingui slowly stated, his voice grave. "A God. A symbol of faith. Before taking any action, you must think carefully."
"I did," Syaoran insisted, a stubborn set to his jaw. "If men could choose their soulmates, why could I not?"
"Don't be stubborn," Jingui admonished. "You are no man. You are a god."
Syaoran looked away, very upset, a flicker of rebellion in his eyes. "Perhaps... I didn't want to be a god. I would rather have one short life as a man, to be with someone I loved, than be a lonely immortal god who talked only to his own shadow." Syaoran's frown deepened stubbornly. "I have to go."
"Why are you rushing?" Jingui asked. "We haven't finished our tea and our game."
"See you next month," Syaoran replied, already rushing out of the stone pavilion.
Syaoran didn't have much hope for the outcome of his journey back. He stopped, then hesitated. If he passed this rock, the flower field would appear. He didn't want to see failed experiments, but at the same time, he yearned for answers. He slowed his pace. When he finally reached that path, the two flowers were already vibrant and fully alive, swaying gently in the breeze. Syaoran was so happy he carefully dug up the two flowers and took them home.
Syaoran lived alone in a beautiful valley, teeming with wildlife and wildflowers. Next to his tree house, there was a beautiful small waterfall, its waters cascading down gently.
Syaoran watered the two flowers with his blood every day. He recited poems to them, sharing his deepest thoughts. Yet, the more he conversed with the two flowers, the lonelier he became. A few months passed, and his heart felt sad once again.
In December, Syaoran journeyed alone to play chess with his friend. At this time of year, snow covered the northern mountains. The once beautiful green landscape was now just a lonely white land, devoid of life. He walked through the flower field, now a desolate expanse. There were no living plants, no wildlife; he only heard the wind howling, dry leaves rustling as the wind passed by. He turned around, and there was only one set of footprints on the road – his own. The frustrated, lonely desolation of winter perfectly mirrored his feelings at that time.
"Your Grace," a female voice whispered into Syaoran's ear, ethereal and chilling.
Syaoran calmly replied, "Where are you? Show yourself now."
"I'm everywhere," the female voice purred.
"What do you want?" Syaoran asked, his voice steady.
The female voice laughed, a mocking, knowing sound. "Perhaps, I should be the one asking."
Syaoran watched as thick black smoke gradually formed a swirling fog around him.
Syaoran lowered his voice, a warning in his tone. "You shouldn't be here. Go back where you came from, and no harm shall come to you."
The female voice said slowly, laced with a seductive, lustful quality, "I have been watching you for several years. I know what you want and most desire. Perhaps, we can reach an agreement."
"I have everything I need," Syaoran retorted, a frown creasing his brow. "Now, you go back."
The female voice sounded surprised. "Really? Then why do you envy mortal men, my Grace?" Dark clouds hovered around Syaoran, thickening. The voice quoted, "I envy mortals. They can choose whom to love and be loved by the person they desire in their hearts. One lifetime with someone you love, and they love you is enough." It laughed lustily, a triumphant, mocking sound.
Syaoran closed his eyes and smiled grimly. "You have been following me. Get out of here now, or your soul will be lost forever by my strike."
The smoky dark cloud began to fade away, and the lustful voice said slowly, "Oh... so much pride. Perhaps... you don't want to know how those two flowers can become human." The dark mist laughed, a mocking sound, and then dispersed into the air, leaving only the cold silence of the winter mountain.
Syaoran stayed there for a while, frozen in time with the winter snow. The last words of the voice echoed in his mind over and over again, a tantalizing riddle. When he finally came to a realization, the heavy snow had already covered his footprints. He decided to walk to the small village at the bottom of the mountain instead of visiting his old friend.