"Find something else to fill it..."
The words hung in the air, heavy and cryptic, vibrating against the silence of the savage wilderness.
Ren Zu sat frozen on the large, flat rock, the Attitude Gu resting in his open palm like a pool of judgmental mercury. He looked down at his own chest. To the naked eye, it was a chest of bronze muscle, sturdy and unbreakable, forged by the Strength Gu. But Ren Zu could feel the truth beneath the skin.
It was a cavern.
Ever since he had reached into his own ribs and gave his beating heart to feed Hope, he had been empty. The white light of Hope occupied the space, yes, but Hope is not a heart. Hope is a fire. It burns; it drives; it consumes fuel to create energy. But it does not hold. It does not cradle. It is an engine, not a vessel.
Ren Zu realized the tragedy of his existence: He was the strongest being on earth, yet he was the most incomplete.
The Strength Gu on his shoulder gave him the power to crush boulders and snap the spines of tigers.
The Rules and Regulations Gu gave him the authority to define the boundaries of the world.
But as he sat there, staring at the useless, shimmering mask of Attitude, he felt a profound sense of powerlessness.
He was a warrior without a shield. He was an actor without a face. He was a King of the Wild, yet he was too honest to survive in it.
"Oh Gu," Ren Zu sighed, his voice carrying the heavy rasp of a man who has conquered everything but himself. "You speak in riddles. You told me that Attitude says it all. You told me it dictates success and failure, friend and foe. You told me it is the skin of the soul."
He picked up the mask with trembling fingers. His thumb traced the empty eye sockets, feeling the cool, smooth texture that refused to warm up to his touch.
"Now that I have encountered a problem, you know it better than I do," Ren Zu pleaded, his pride stripped away by necessity. "I have the mask, but I cannot wear it. I have the desire to deceive, but I lack the foundation to lie. My chest is filled with the white light of Hope, but it is cold. It is a star that gives light, not a hearth that gives warmth."
Ren Zu looked at the Gu with pleading eyes, his expression raw and unguarded. "I am here to seek advice, not philosophy. How can a heartless man wear the mask of the heart? What can possibly fill this void?"
Attitude Gu flickered in his palm.
It felt the genuine distress of its master. It felt the vibrations of his frustration. Although Attitude has no loyalty—it only sides with the one who wears it best—it was currently bound by the bet it had lost. It had to serve.
It sighed—a sound like silk sliding over rough stone.
"This is not hard, Ren Zu," Attitude Gu said, its voice dripping with ancient indifference. "You are overthinking the mechanics of the soul. The solution is simple logic. You lack a heart, thus you just have to find a new one. If the cup is empty, fill it. If the house is vacant, invite a new tenant."
Ren Zu frowned, his thick brows furrowing in confusion. "Find a new heart?"
He looked around at the savage wilderness. He saw the jagged rocks, the towering trees, and the distant shadows of beasts.
"I gave my heart to Hope. It is gone, consumed by the light," Ren Zu argued. "Where can I find another? Can I hunt a Tiger Predicament and take its heart? Can I carve a heart out of Mountain Rock? Can I weave a heart out of Wind?"
"No," Attitude Gu replied, its surface rippling with distaste.
"A beast's heart is too savage," the Gu explained. "If you put a tiger's heart in your chest, the Attitude mask will only show fury and hunger. You will become a beast in human skin, losing your wisdom and your method."
"A stone heart is too hard," it continued. "If you put a rock in your chest, the Attitude mask will freeze. You will become unmovable, stubborn, and cold. You will not be able to deceive, only to endure."
"And a heart of wind is too fickle," it finished. "You would change your face every second, forgetting who you are entirely."
"You need a Human Heart," Attitude Gu declared. "Only a human heart has the complexity to hold the mask of Attitude. Only a human heart can hold joy and sorrow, love and hate, truth and lies, all at the same time."
Ren Zu threw his hands up in exasperation. "But I am the only human!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the canyon walls. "I am the Ancestor! There are no others! Where can I find a human heart if I am the only one walking this earth?"
"Heart is nowhere and everywhere," Attitude Gu murmured cryptically, enjoying the confusion of its master. "It is not an object you find in a river. It is not a fruit you pluck from a tree. It is a State of Being."
The Gu floated up from his palm, hovering at eye level.
"A heart is created," it whispered. "It is crystallized emotion. Finding a heart is both the easiest thing in the world and the most difficult. For most beings, it takes a lifetime to forge a new heart. But with your current situation... you are ripe. You can obtain a specific heart right now."
Ren Zu was overjoyed. The despair vanished from his face, replaced by the eager hunger of a drowning man seeing a rope.
"Quick, tell me!" Ren Zu demanded, leaning forward. "How? I will do anything. I will fight any Predicament. I will climb the highest mountain. I will swim the deepest ocean. Just tell me how to fill this hole so I can wear the mask!"
Attitude Gu's light dimmed. It turned from a vibrant peach color to a somber, melancholic shade of gray. It looked at Ren Zu with a mixture of pity and warning.
"This heart," Attitude Gu whispered, its voice dropping to a low hum, "is called Loneliness."
Ren Zu paused. "Loneliness?"
"Yes," the Gu confirmed. "The Heart of Loneliness."
"Human, are you sure you want it?" Attitude Gu asked, its tone serious for the first time. "It is not a heart of flesh and blood. It is not a heart of warmth. It is a heart of Void. It is a heart made of the space between stars."
"Once you obtain it," the Gu warned, "you will face endless pain. You will not bleed, but you will ache. You will face a silence louder than thunder. You will face a coldness that Hope cannot heat."
"You have Strength," the Gu noted, looking at the bronze beetle on Ren Zu's shoulder. "But Strength cannot punch Loneliness. You have Rules. But you cannot regulate Isolation. You will face fear—the primal fear of being the only consciousness in a dead universe."
Ren Zu listened, but he did not hear.
To a man who had been eaten by Predicaments, chewed by beasts, and trapped in absolute darkness, the threat of "feelings" seemed trivial. He was a survivor. He was a pragmatist. He needed the mask to survive the physical dangers of the world. If the price was a little sadness, he would pay it.
Ren Zu waved his hand dismissively. "I have eaten raw meat and drunk blood. I have walked in the Cavern of Eternal Night where I could not see my own fingers. I have been chased by Death itself. What is a little pain to me?"
"I am Ren Zu!" he proclaimed. "I can endure anything. Loneliness is just a word. Survival is reality. Tell me the method."
Attitude Gu looked at him. It saw the arrogance of the First Human, but it also saw the necessity. Without the mask, Ren Zu would surely die to the cunning of the world.
The Gu could not defy Ren Zu's orders. It bowed its head, submitting to the inevitable tragedy.
"Very well," the Gu said, its voice retreating into a flat, instructional monotone. "The method is simple."
"You must go to the highest peak," Attitude Gu instructed. "You only have to stare at the sky on a starry night, and say nothing. Do not sleep. Do not move. Do not cultivate. Just watch the stars."
"Open your soul to the vastness," it whispered. "Let the silence enter you. Once you reach daylight, if you have not looked away, you will obtain the Heart of Loneliness."