30

The Vessels

Zhì Rén and Yīn-er’s eyes were opened. The way they saw themselves and the world around them changed. Consciousness brought a higher wisdom with it. There was another change in them. That fateful day, they lost the luminosity that clothed them. In its place, there was ordinary and fragile skin that could now feel pain, pleasure, weather changes and all kinds of new and strange sensations.

In an instant, both of them knew that they were naked and for the first time they felt a sense of shame. Previously, they had skin and clothes of light which hid their nakedness. Since, both of them had learnt many skills from the King and the Bride, they used them to find leaves of appropriate size to make crude garments for themselves.

There was an awkward silence between them for they were aware of the other in a strange manner. Gone was the innocent trust and friendship between them. They were acutely aware of the differences between them, that one was male and the other female. Once, they felt united in kinship and similarity, now their differences drove them apart. As they hid themselves from each other, the King came to visit them as was his habit.

The King often visited them along with his beloved, but this day, she was not by his side. It was just him in all his loneliness seeking them out with full knowledge of what they had done.

Hearing his voice calling out to them and his footsteps on the rustling leaves, Zhì Rén and Yīn-er crept deeper into the bushes to hide from their father’s presence. They were no different than children who were fearful of facing their parents knowing they have been caught red-handed doing exactly what they were forbidden to do.

The King called out again, ‘Zhì Rén, where are you?’ He knew where both of them were hiding but he wanted them to face him, themselves, each other and what was done.

Then Zhì Rén called back, ‘I am here! I heard your voice and hid myself for I am naked. I do not want to present myself before you in this manner lest I dishonor you. It is deeply embarrassing!’

Then the King asked him, ‘Who told you that you were naked? How do you know this? Did you eat from the forbidden tree which I forbade you to eat from?’

Out of a sudden fear of punishment, Zhì Rén replied, ‘It is Yīn-er, the woman you gave me who did this! She gave the fruit to me, and I ate it!’ He said nothing of his own role in participating in the act. This was the first time mortals learnt to shift blame rather than own their errors.

The King looked sadly at Yīn-er and asked her, ‘What is this that you have done?’

She looked down with guilt and answered, ‘It is him, that wretched serpent! It is he who deceived me and I ate of it!’ She said this as she pointed to Wěi Hóng who was still hiding among the branches of the tree.

The King knew that all these things were meant to happen, but the main culprit was Jiàn Shēng and Wěi Hóng who helped him. That day, the King cursed someone for the first time. A curse is pronounced to bind, thwart or restrict the one being cursed so they will be intentionally blocked with obstacles that halt their progress.

He looked at Jiàn Shēng and said, ‘You have led them into evil and caused them to fall away from the Law of Perfect Love that governs all the realms! You have hindered them and therefore, you will be hindered.’

The King continued, ‘You will be restricted even more than all the creatures in the mortal realm. Your belly has a strong appetite for injustice and evil. I will restrain your power to act in this world. You will eat of the dust of this mortal realm for the rest of the time granted to you. By this, I mean that your power to act in this world will always depend on the cooperation of the mortals made of dust, the very ones you look down upon.’

‘You deceived Yīn-er and led Zhì Rén astray. To protect them, I will place a wedge of deep hatred between her and you, and also between the seed you will sow into this realm and the seed that she sows. He will crush your head, and all its wisdom and power. You will only succeed in crushing his heel, that is, the part of him that he willingly makes vulnerable and exposes,’ the King declared.

There were a lot of hidden messages in this curse. The King hinted that he planned to enter the mortal realm and that he would willingly make himself weak and vulnerable so that Jiàn Shēng could harm him. He never stated the reason behind this decision. The King spoke of the woman’s seed, indicating a male descendant who posed threat to Jiàn Shēng. He did not mention that the woman was capable of two kinds of seed, male and female, and both would endanger Jiàn Shēng and his plans, uniting to deliver a crushing defeat to him.

The King said all these things for the benefit of Yīn-er and Zhì Rén. He looked at Yīn-er next and told her what to expect in this newly changed world in which she too stood transformed. He did not curse her, but he educated her of the consequences so that she could be more prepared for them.

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‘You previously had a luminous body that felt no pain or exhaustion. You have now lost it. You will bear the responsibility of extending human life as you are mortal and will face death one day. Bringing children into the world will cause you great pain. I will not spare you from it, so that you can remember this day and all that was lost. I hope that the day will come when you will fight for life and the survival of your kind upon this world because you have learnt the value and worth of being a life-bearer. You will till the land and labor over it for your own seed, for you were taken from the dust of the earth,’ the King told Yīn-er.

Then he added, ‘Your relationship of trust is now ruined with the man. Both of you will doubt each other. Your mutual responsibility and harmony is broken. You will seek to control him, but he will stifle you and gain the upper hand. You will both battle for control in the relationship. It will lead to great frustration for you that will be relieved as you re-find your purpose as protector and provider of new life in the world and for your husband.’

The King looked more sternly at Zhì Rén. While his wife was deceived, he willingly disobeyed a clear instruction that was given to him by choosing to follow her rather than the King.

The King stated the consequences to him, ‘I told you that you are a steward of the earth and are to care for the land and all its creatures. This land is cursed because of you! You have harmed it with your disobedience. There is a world outside this garden. You ought to have learnt well over here and brought prosperity across the mortal realm that exists beyond this safe place. It is no longer the same. When you go outside the garden, it will be a dangerous and difficult place for you to live.’

The King continued, ‘You will labor and toil to eat its fruit and work hard with blood and sweat to subdue it. Yet, the land will be parched and bear thorns and thistles. This will be your manner of life till you return to the dust from which you were taken and fashioned. Therefore, labor – labor against yourself and learn what it means to cultivate a better man than what you have become! These are the sorrows and toils that you have chosen to experience - both good and evil. You opened the door for evil to enter your world, therefore you will share in my experience of sorrow, pain, death and loss in your own pursuit to be like me! What you have sown, you will reap.’

These things were in total contrast to how the King and Bride celebrated their relationship and even how Yīn-er and Zhì Rén were before the incident that changed everything. Previously, it was natural for Yīn-er to exercise responsible control, but now she will have to battle with Zhì Rén. He once called her ‘perfect and beautiful’ but now, he found her lacking and opposed who she once was. Zhì Rén bore the responsibility of staying loyal to both the King and Yīn-er. He would no longer be able to blame anyone without facing consequences affecting himself.

Mutual submission would soon be forgotten. The power dynamics were all messed up badly. He will forget that authority is freely granted by another who has the power to do so, and never forcibly taken from her. They would forget that they had a mutual commitment to put aside their own interests to offer their best to each other. They would forget they owned and honored each other with resolute and unwavering faithfulness.

There would always be painful pangs when women would recall their innate desire to provide for and protect their men. She would want to provide what no other woman can give him, a special touch of love and warmth that he would only find in her embrace. She would want to protect him from those who would harm him, but he would struggle to listen to her warnings.

Similar pangs would resonate with mortal men who would love freedom from control and yet desire deeply to commit and belong to one woman as long as that one woman their heart searched for could be found. The kind of woman who had something far more valuable than beauty – the one a man could entrust his life with.

Thus, the King only directly cursed Jiàn Shēng while pronouncing the obvious consequences that the world, its creatures and mortals would face collectively due to this misstep. The King did not change his plans or commands to his mortal children. The only thing that changed was the manner in which these plans will be fulfilled. Nothing can erase his purposes.

Once he had spoken to Yīn-er and Zhì Rén, the King gave them another protective layer of epidermal skin. He also made linen tunics for them and clothed them in it.

The King said aloud as if his beloved was still beside him, ‘Look, the mortals have become like one of us, knowing good and evil. When they experience death, they will surely take by force the fruit from the tree of immortality on the right bank. By eating it, they will attempt to prolong their lives.’

He called Yīn-er and Zhì Rén, ‘You will leave the garden. Go and till the land outside it,’ he commanded them.

They found it very difficult to listen and had no desire to leave the only home they had ever known. Like a bird that stirs up its nest to force the fledglings out, the King thrust them out of the garden even though they protested. Then he closed the eastern entrance of the garden for it was the only way into it. He placed two powerful Tiānshǐ each holding a whirling sword of flame to guard the way to the tree of life and immortality which grew on either side of the river. This was a trail marker for the Bride to recall the two guardians of Huǒrè de bǎolěi and Méiguī shān.

Once out of the garden, Yīn-er and Zhì Rén found themselves in a very different world. It looked like a terrible calamity had struck everything around them, leaving only those within the garden safe from harm. There was dust everywhere and the strange smells of a decaying world. Instead of lush plants, there were thorns and thistles. River beds were exposed to the heat and the merciless, strong winds. The darkness at night was haunting and filled with the frightening sounds of creatures that seemed to have lost their senses and gone wild.

Zhì Rén told Yīn-er, ‘I will henceforth call you Huì Shēng for you will be mother to many just like the beloved of the King.’ For the first time, passion was stirred in both of them, and they consummated their marriage for they were no more child-like. Huì Shēng conceived and as the child within her grew, the seed was forging its own path and destiny.

Hidden away from prying eyes and knowing minds, the primordial seed of the Bride had found a way to continue its passage through the mortal world till all her remnants could be found and restored to wholeness. The seed would depend on its mortal vessels for survival and nurture, for propagation and growth. It would inextricably share in their joys and sorrows, good and evil, highs and lows.

While the life of Zhì Rén and Huì Shēng had ended the way they once knew it, the journey of the seed had just begun.