The journey East was a descent into a living paradise.
Verdant Great Sun turned his back on the central valley, where Wisdom Gu watched him with its ancient, unblinking compound eyes. He stepped forward, his golden boots sinking into the soil, and began the first leg of his pilgrimage.
The East is the direction of the rising sun, the cradle of the water and Wood path, and the domain of boundless vitality. As Verdant Great Sun walked, the world transformed around him. The rugged, gray stones and jagged cliffs of the central lands began to soften, eroded not by wind, but by the relentless growth of life.
The landscape rolled out before him like a green carpet woven by the gods. The hills were gentle and curving, covered in emerald grass so vibrant it seemed to glow with its own inner light in the twilight. The rivers here did not roar or crash; they giggled, bubbling over smooth, moss-covered stones, carrying water that was as clear as liquid glass.
The air grew thick and heavy. It was not the oppressive heaviness of a storm, but the rich, nurturing heaviness of a greenhouse. It sat on his skin like a warm blanket. It smelled of wet earth, of blooming jasmine, of fermenting berries, and the sticky, sweet sap of ancient maple trees. It was the scent of a world that had never known winter.
Verdant Great Sun walked for nine days and nine nights. He felt no fatigue, for the very air of the East fed his vitality. He crossed streams where the fish were so unafraid they leaped into his hands to be held. He walked under canopies of leaves where birds sang songs that sounded like intricate flutes.
Finally, he crested a ridge and looked down into a hidden basin protected by a ring of flowering hills.
He found it: the domain of the Honey Peach Monkeys.
He pushed aside a heavy branch, its leaves broad and glossy, and stepped into the clearing.
The light here was different. It was filtered through layers of translucent pink petals, casting a soft, rose-gold hue over everything. The trees were not the towering oaks of the north or the twisted pines of the west. They were short, stout trees with bark as smooth as jade. Their branches spread wide, like open arms, and they groaned under the weight of their bounty.
Hanging from every limb were the Earth-Mother Honey Peaches. They were massive—each the size of a man's head—and they glowed with a soft, pulsing pink light. They looked like beating hearts made of sugar and velvet.
"Squeak! Squeak!"
A chorus of high-pitched, joyful sounds erupted around him.
Hundreds of pink blurs rushed from the canopy. The Honey Peach Monkeys descended. They were creatures of pure delight, their fur the color of a sunrise blush, soft as dandelion fluff. They had large, round eyes that sparkled with a perpetual, naive curiosity. They had no claws for fighting, for there were no enemies here. They had no fangs for tearing, for they ate only soft fruit. They existed only to enjoy.
Verdant Great Sun stood still, his golden aura illuminating the shady grove like a second sun.
The monkeys did not fear him. In the East, fear was a concept that had not yet been invented. They swarmed him, pulling at his golden robes, touching his warm skin, offering him flowers. They thought he was a giant, walking peach that had come to play.
Verdant Great Sun laughed, a sound that mixed with the rustling leaves. He watched them work, entranced by their simple, hedonistic society.
They were gathering the peaches. But they did not pick the green ones, nor even the firm ones. They only gathered the fruit so ripe that the skin had split of its own accord, weeping trails of golden nectar down the sides.
They carried these treasures with great reverence to the center of the grove. There stood a massive, ancient tree stump. It was the remains of a primordial ancestor tree, hollowed out by time and use, forming a natural wooden vat the size of a house. The wood was black and hard, seasoned by centuries of absorbing sugar.
The monkeys climbed the stump and threw the fruit in.
Plop. Squash. Splash.
They jumped in after the fruit. They danced on the pile, laughing as their soft feet crushed the pulp. The juice flowed out—golden, thick, and fragrant. The wild yeast of the forest, carried on the humid breeze, mixed with the juice. The heat of the Eastern sun warmed the vat.
The alchemy of nature took over. The death of the fruit became the birth of the wine.
Verdant Great Sun approached the center of the activity. There, dozing on a bed of emerald moss, lay the Monkey King. He was not a fearsome warrior; he was simply the roundest, pinkest, and happiest of them all. His belly was stained with juice, and he wore a wreath of flowers on his head.
"I seek the taste of life," Verdant Great Sun announced, his voice ringing with the authority of the First Son. "Wisdom Gu sent me."
The Monkey King opened one eye. He giggled. He did not ask why. In the East, desire was its own justification. If you wanted something, you should have it. That was the only law.
He signaled with a chubby finger to a younger monkey. The subordinate scurried up the side of the vat, dipped a rough stone bowl into the pink soup, and brought it down.
He offered the bowl to Verdant Great Sun with both hands.
Verdant Great Sun took it. The bowl was heavy, warm from the fermentation.
He looked at the liquid. It was thick, pink, and opaque. Bits of golden pulp swirled in its depths. It did not look like water; it looked like liquid life.
The scent hit him first. It was a physical wave of sweetness. It smelled of concentrated summer days that never end. It smelled of the moment a flower opens to the bee. It was so sweet that Verdant Great Sun's teeth ached in anticipation.
He lifted the bowl to his lips. "To Love," he whispered.
He hesitated for a heartbeat—a final moment of sobriety—and then tipped it back.
Flash.
The world stopped.
His golden eyes widened into perfect circles. His pupils dilated, taking in the colors of the grove with a newfound, hallucinating intensity.
The taste exploded on his tongue. It was Sweet.
But it was not the flat, simple sweetness of cane sugar. It was a symphony.
The first note was the fresh tang of the peach skin.
The second note was the rich, creamy body of the flesh.
The third note was the deep, resonant heat of the alcohol.
It was the essence of comfort. It tasted like the embrace of a mother he never knew. It tasted like the safety of a cradle. It tasted like the moment before sleep when you are perfectly warm and perfectly safe. It tasted of Innocence—pure, untainted, and blindingly bright.
"Delicious!" Verdant Great Sun exclaimed. The word burst from him, half-laugh and half-shout. He wiped a ring of pink foam from his lip.
He couldn't stop. The desire was instant and consuming.
He drank the rest in one long, desperate gulp.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
The wine hit his stomach and bloomed. It turned into a warm, fuzzy heat that radiated outward, rushing to his fingertips and his toes. It was a hug from the inside out.
He felt his shoulders drop. The heavy knot of anxiety that had lived in his chest—the fear of rejection, the worry about his blind father, the pressure of being Ren Zu's son—loosened and dissolved.
The world softened. The edges of his vision blurred into a pleasant haze.
"She will love me," Verdant Great Sun laughed, his voice slurring slightly as the spirit of the wine took hold. "Of course she will. Why was I worried? I am the Sun! Who could hate the Sun?"
He looked at the trees, and they seemed to be bowing to him. He looked at the monkeys, and they seemed to be his children.
"Love is easy! Love is happy! Love is sweet!"
He grabbed the Monkey King's paws and pulled him up. He danced with the monkeys, his golden hair spinning like a halo of fire. He twirled and leaped, gravity losing its hold on him. For an hour, he lived in a perfect world where rejection did not exist.
When he finally stumbled away from the grove, the sun was setting, but in his mind, it was still noon.
He ran back to the Valley of Flowers. He did not feel the distance. He tripped over roots and laughed at the ground. He hugged the trees as he passed.
When he arrived back at Wisdom Gu, he was beaming. He reeked of peaches and fermentation. His face was flushed a deep, healthy rose color, radiating heat and naivety.
"I understand!" Verdant Great Sun shouted, pointing a shaking finger at the silent Gu. "I know the secret! Love is Sweet!"
He spread his arms wide, encompassing the whole world in his drunken joy. "It is a joy that never ends! It is peaches and sunshine! I just need to be sweet to her, and she will melt like sugar in water!"
Wisdom Gu sat on its branch, looking down at the foolish, happy man. Its unblinking eyes showed no amusement. It saw the regression. It saw a man who had retreated into the safety of childhood to escape the pain of adulthood.
"You have tasted the beginning," Wisdom Gu said, its voice low and somber, cutting through the man's euphoria like a cold wind.
"The infancy of love is always sweet. It is the honeymoon. It is the illusion that nothing can go wrong. But look at you—you are stumbling. You are blind to the roots at your feet."
Wisdom Gu shook its head. "If you only eat sugar, you will sicken. If you only know sweetness, you will break at the first sign of hardship. That is not the whole truth. That is only the shell."
Wisdom Gu lifted a crystalline wing and pointed away from the lush East, toward the land where the shadows grew long and the earth grew hard.
"Go West."