The village was small, nestled amidst waterfalls, with a population of less than two hundred people. Syaoran always looked at them from the top of the mountain, seeing them like little ants crawling back and forth. This was the first time he had approached human beings directly.
As he walked down the street, he realized that they looked just like him. Humans had a face, two hands, and two legs. He felt strangely happy as he walked around. Even in mid-December, children were still running, yelling, and playing in the street, everyone going about their normal routines.
The sound of people greeting each other in the morning was like music to his ears. The smiles on the villagers' faces were priceless. Sharing the same street with mortals seemed to alleviate his profound loneliness.
Mortals had a short lifespan, but they knew how to cherish it in their own way. He didn't know how long he stood there, simply observing. Then he heard a voice.
A lady greeted him, "Good morning, sir. Are you new in town?"
Syaoran turned around and saw a middle-aged, pregnant woman smiling kindly at him.
"Yes, I am," Syaoran replied, his voice calm.
She smiled, a warm invitation in her eyes. "I am Ai Fu. Would you like a bowl of noodles? You are our thousandth customer, so the noodles are on the house. Please sit down."
Syaoran sat down on the bench, a thousand thoughts boiling in his mind. Then, a middle-aged man brought a steaming bowl of noodles and placed it in front of Syaoran.
He smiled and said, "You won't regret it. My wife cooks the best noodles in town." He smiled at Syaoran, then hurried back to help his wife.
Syaoran watched and listened to the couple's easy conversation. Their words, their smiles, filled him with a new understanding of human emotion. She smiled at her husband, and he smiled back at her. Their eyes spoke another language, one only the two of them understood, affirming the old saying, "Actions speak louder than words." After he finished the bowl of noodles, he thanked the couple and walked home.
When he reached the flower field, he stopped and stared at the empty, white expanse, now covered in snow.
"Come... out!" Syaoran shouted, his voice so powerful that the ground around him trembled.
The dark mist appeared right before his eyes, swirling and then forming into a dense black cloud.
The lustful voice of the entity asked slowly, "Your Grace, are you ready to make a deal?"
"What is the deal?" Syaoran demanded.
The voice laughed lustily. "All you have to do is bring me six pouches."
Syaoran laughed, a mirthless sound. "Only some pouches? Why can't you do it yourself?"
The female voice sighed. "If I could do it, then I would have done it already. You see, my friends were locked away. That's why I understand how you feel, and I am willing to make a deal."
"Where are these pouches?" Syaoran asked, his eyes narrowed.
The female voice explained, "They are locked inside the Souls Collection Realm, and only immortals of high virtue can pass through the magic gates. As you can see, I am a soul. I can't even walk past the first gate."
"You want souls to hurt people," Syaoran accused, his voice stern. "Why would I help you?"
"We don't hurt people, my Grace," the voice persuaded, a seductive quality to its tone. "You might not believe me. It all depends on how badly you want companionship." The black mist enveloped Syaoran, a chilling embrace. "We have been blocked for a long time. All we want is the opportunity to see the sun like you, an opportunity to love and be loved. Sometimes we have to lose something to gain a little." The female, lustful voice giggled.
"If you ever hurt anyone," Syaoran warned, his voice low and dangerous, "I will hunt you down and lock you away."
The voice agreed. Then, a small, luminous pearl floated in the air, drifting towards Syaoran. "When you enter the Souls Collector Realm, take it out. The pouches I want will come to you."
Syaoran took the pearl, and then he vanished.
In the blink of an eye, Syaoran reached the Souls Collector Realm. There were no guards there, because only immortals could enter. Syaoran took the white pearl out, and the pearl grew even whiter, glowing intensely. Six small pouches materialized in the air, floating towards him. He grabbed the six pouches, and then he vanished, teleporting back to the flower field. The entire acquisition took less than a minute.
The female voice asked, "Did you get it?" She laughed lustily, a sound of triumph.
"Yes," Syaoran replied, his voice cold. "But until my flowers become human, I won't give them to you."
The female voice scoffed, "Tsk...tsk...tsk... beauty takes time." The dark clouds circled the two flowers, then hovered over two human-sized statues that had materialized.
Syaoran watched as two small, glowing orbs floated from the two flowers. This was the life energy of the flowers, gently transferring to the statues. The clay began to peel off from the heads of the statues, revealing human flesh slowly appearing underneath. His heart raced, beating fast in his chest. He felt as though his heart were being ripped from his chest due to the sheer excitement.
The female voice purred, "Now." She paused, then giggled, a chilling sound. "Take out your heart."
Syaoran was shocked. "What?! You lied to me!" As his anger swelled, three shimmering swords materialized before him, hovering menacingly.
The female voice calmly said, "My Grace, let me explain." The lustful voice laughed again. "I gave them a human-like form, and I transferred their life energy to the statues. I can't give them a heart. You are immortal. You don't need a heart to breathe. They are made of dirt; if they don't have a heart, they will only be two flesh bodies waiting to decay."
Syaoran stretched his right hand into his chest without hesitation, pulling his beating heart out. He held the pulsating organ in his palm, and then he realized that he had only one beating heart. He didn't know which one he would choose.
The female voice, "Choose one." It laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. "If you choose one, then the other will be an inanimate corpse, waiting to decay."
Syaoran held his heart with both hands. Then, with a fierce resolve, he tore his heart in half.
"Here, take it," Syaoran said softly, offering the two beating halves of his heart.
The female voice giggled. "Men are still men, whether mortal or immortal... full of greed and lust." The voice cackled, then fell silent.
Syaoran watched as pieces of his heart were implanted into the chests of the two women. Slowly, their eyes opened and blinked. They looked at Syaoran and smiled, their faces radiant.
"Now, give me my pouches," the female voice demanded, a hint of impatience in its tone. "I kept my end of the bargain."
Syaoran threw the six pouches into the black mist. The mist swirled with what seemed like joy, then it vanished, taking the pouches with it.
Syaoran walked to the two women he had just created. He named them CháHuā and HéHuā. The two women and Syaoran returned home. When he looked at his footprints on the snowy path, there were three in total. He would no longer walk this path alone.
They stared at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. Syaoran now understood the language of their eyes, just like the villager's husband and wife. The three lived together, sharing the same bed, making love inside their beautiful tree house. The world was no longer a part of them. They had each other.