The Three Gates of Heaven
A way lay before him, cut not by stone but by will. At its threshold stood a figure shrouded in pale gold. No mouth, no eyes. Only a presence that hummed with ancient rhythm.
"You wish to be tested in flesh," it spoke.
"You must go through three gates. Each one demands: what are you?"
Xiao Hua bowed, and the first gate swung open.
Gate One: The Beast of Want
A tiger with glowing eyes leaped out of the darkness. Its teeth were hunger, its claws greed. It spoke to him in the tone of longing:
"You climbed up for power.
You practiced for renown.
You bore the pain for pride. Admit it."
Xiao Hua did not draw his sword.
He let the beast maul him, tear at his spirit, gnash at the ego he had long shed like snake skin. When it found nothing to bite, the beast dissolved into vapor.
He had passed the Trial of Want.
Gate Two: The Mirror of Regret
Here stood a reflection—not distorted, but worse: perfect.
A Xiao Hua who remained behind in the white peaks. Married young. Loved Ling Yan every day. Had a life with no inheritance, no weight, no struggle. This version smiled and spoke:
"You would've been happy, you know.
She would've lived longer.
You would've died old, holding hands."
Xiao Hua cried—because it was true.
But he walked through the mirror anyway, whispering:
"A flower that never reaches the sun dies perfect, but unknown."
He had passed the Trial of Regret.
Gate Three: The Laughing Buddha
Finally, beneath a great Bodhi Tree where time dripped like dew, sat the last guardian—that was no demon, that was no god, but a stout, smiling man with eyes that saw all.
"Welcome," said the Buddha.
"What do you bear?"
Xiao Hua sat. For a long while, he was silent.
"I bear longing. And defeat.
I bear the names of the dead.".
I carry a girl's silent tears.
I carry warmth knit into wool."
The Buddha smiled.
"Then why not let them go?"
Xiao Hua shook his head.
"Because that would mean none of it mattered."
The Buddha did not laugh.
"Then your training is complete.
Not because you overcame desire.
Not because you faced pain.
But because you chose to carry meaning,
even when it broke you."
With that, the third gate vanished.
The Trial of Bones
When Xiao Hua emerged from the Hollow Sky, days had elapsed. Or decades. His body shook like reeds in the wind.
But now he moved with perfect stillness.
He lifted a lone boulder—then another. Without brute strength, but with balanced breath and silence. He could hear the pulse of ants' blood. He could foretell the fall of rain ten minutes before it touched ground.
He could grin, even when his muscles howled.
And one day he stood in front of his house in Hubei once more, the sweater still in his hand—unworn, untarnished, flawless.
Ling Yan opened the door.
"You look… thinner," she said.
"I burnt everything that wasn't necessary," he replied.
They sat under the stars that night. There was nothing said. But something had ended—and something greater had begun.