Ren Zu stood amidst the settling dust of his frantic chase, his chest heaving. The Attitude Gu was trapped in his bronze grip, unable to shift its way out of the absolute constraint of Strength.
"Human," Attitude Gu spoke from his palm.
Its voice had lost the playful, mocking lilt it used during the gamble. It was now smooth, obedient, and perfectly modulated to please the ear. It had stopped struggling the moment the fingers closed. It followed the betting rules strictly, for Attitude has no loyalty, only alignment with the victor.
"You caught me," it admitted, its form flowing over Ren Zu's calloused skin like cool, liquid mercury. "I can only curse my bad luck to be slower than your ambition. From now on, I will be at your command. I will be the face you show the world."
The mercury-like substance began to glow with a soft, peach-colored light. It pooled in the center of Ren Zu's palm, bubbling and reshaping itself. Finally, the light solidified into a physical object.
"Wear me," Attitude Gu instructed, its voice echoing from the object. "I am a Mask. Put me on your face, and you will be able to use my ability. I am the ultimate defense and the ultimate weapon."
"With me," the Gu whispered seductively, "you can swim in a sea of fire without burning, for you can put on the Attitude of fire, convincing the flames that you are one of them. With me, you can walk among ravenous beasts without fear, for you can put on the Attitude of a King, and they will bow before your majesty."
Ren Zu was overjoyed. His eyes sparkled with the greed of a survivor.
This was a treasure beyond compare! He had Strength to fight, but fighting was exhausting. To rule by fear was difficult; to rule by influence was divine.
He picked up the Attitude Gu with gentle, reverent fingers.
It was a masterpiece of the Great Dao. It looked like a thin, exquisite mask made of translucent human skin, yet it was tougher than steel and softer than silk. It shimmered in the sunlight, cycling through a thousand different micro-expressions in a single heartbeat. It showed Joy so pure it made one want to weep; it showed Anger so fierce it made the air tremble; it showed Sorrow so deep it eclipsed the night; it showed Stoicism so hard it resembled a rock.
"With this," Ren Zu muttered, holding the mask up to the sun, "I can deceive the Predicaments. I can hide my weakness. I can project my will onto the heavens. I can rule the Gu."
He took a deep breath and lifted the mask to his face. He aligned the empty eye holes with his own eyes, and the sculpted mouth with his own lips.
"Become my face," Ren Zu commanded.
He pressed the mask onto his skin.
Slip.
The mask fell off immediately.
It didn't just fall; it slid off his skin as if his face were made of oiled glass. It dropped through the air and landed in the dirt with a pathetic, wet pat.
Ren Zu frowned. He bent down, picked it up, and brushed off the dust. "Strange," he grumbled. "Maybe I didn't press hard enough. My hands are rough from the Strength Gu; perhaps I was too clumsy."
He tried again.
This time, he was deliberate. He pushed the mask onto his face with both hands, molding the edges to his jawline, pressing the nose bridge tight, smoothing the forehead. He held it there, exerting pressure, willing the Gu to bond with his flesh.
"Stick," Ren Zu grunted through gritted teeth.
He held it for a long moment, feeling the cool texture of the mask against his warm skin. Slowly, carefully, he took his hands away.
Slough.
As soon as he removed the support of his hands, the mask peeled away. It drifted to the ground again, landing in the grass like a discarded leaf. It refused to stick. It was like trying to attach a magnet to a piece of wood—there was simply no attraction.
Ren Zu was becoming frustrated. He was a practical man, a man who had survived by forcing the world to yield to him.
"You surrendered to me!" Ren Zu shouted at the mask lying in the grass. "Why do you resist?"
He decided to use force. "If it won't stick by itself, I will bind it."
He turned to the nearby forest. He found several vines—tough, green, and unbreakable. He wove them into a sturdy rope.
Ren Zu picked up the mask for the third time. He placed it on his face, and this time, he wrapped the vines around his head. He pulled the knot tight—so tight it dug into his scalp and cut into his skin. He tied it with the strength that could crush boulders.
"There," Ren Zu grunted, testing the knot. "Now you cannot fall. You are bound by the law of force."
He took a confident step forward, ready to face the world with his new face.
Clatter.
The rope remained tied tightly to his head, forming a secure loop. But the mask simply phased through the vines like a ghost. It slipped right through the physical restraint and fell to the ground again, lying there with a blank, mocking expression.
It was as if Ren Zu's face physically repelled it.
"What is going on?" Ren Zu shouted, his patience shattering. He kicked the ground, shaking the valley. "I am the Master! You are the Servant! Why do you refuse to be worn?"
On the ground, the Attitude Gu laughed.
It was not the intellectual, piercing laugh of Wisdom, which mocked one's stupidity. It was a dry, hollow sound, like wind blowing through an empty skull. It was a laugh of pity.
"I know the reason, human," Attitude Gu said, floating up from the dirt to look him in the eye. Its empty eye sockets stared deep into Ren Zu. "It is not that I refuse you. It is that you cannot hold me."
"Why?" Ren Zu demanded, his chest heaving with anger. "I have the face of a man. I have the strength to hold you. I have the will to use you. What am I missing?"
Attitude Gu hovered closer, whispering the cruel truth.
"Because you have no heart."
Ren Zu froze. The wind in the valley seemed to stop. The anger in his veins turned to ice.
"Attitude is the Mask of the Heart," the Gu explained, its voice turning solemn and philosophical. "It is the projection of the inner self outward. To wear a mask, there must be a face beneath it. To project an attitude, there must be an intent to project from."
"The mask needs a core to latch onto," Attitude Gu continued. "It needs the blood of emotion, the beat of desire, the warmth of feeling. Without a heart, there is no foundation. A mask with nothing behind it is just a shell that falls. You are trying to hang a painting on a wall that does not exist."
Ren Zu realized at once. The realization hit him harder than any blow from a Predicament.
His mind flashed back.
He remembered the dark days in the wilderness, decades ago.
He remembered the cold wind biting his skin.
He remembered being weak, hunted, and terrified.
He remembered the Predicaments circling him, their jaws dripping with hunger.
He remembered the despair that had almost consumed him.
And he remembered the Hope Gu—that small, fragile, glowing speck of light—asking for a place to reside.
"Human, if you just give me your heart, it will be enough."
Ren Zu had not hesitated. In his desperation to survive, in his drive to overcome the darkness, he had reached into his own chest. He had torn out his beating, bleeding, feeling heart and given it to Hope.
Since that day, his chest had been empty of blood and emotion. It was filled only with the glowing, cold, eternal white light of Hope.
He was heartless.
Because he gave his heart to Hope, he never feared difficulty.
Because he gave his heart to Hope, he never gave up.
When the Predicaments came, he did not despair.
When he was blinded, he kept walking.
When he was trapped in the cave of darkness, he kept guessing names.
But every gift has a price. The Great Dao is fair.
By giving his heart to Hope, he lost the ability to truly hold the complex, messy, heavy weight of human emotion. He could not truly love, for love requires a heart. He could not truly hate, for hate requires a heart. He could only hope.
And someone who is heartless cannot wear the Attitude mask.
To have an attitude—to feign, to pretend, to project, to act—requires the intent of a heart. You cannot fake a smile if you do not know what a smile is covering. You cannot feign anger if you do not have a seed of anger to exaggerate.
Ren Zu stood in the wilderness, the wind blowing against his strong, middle-aged face.
He looked powerful. The bronze muscles of Strength rippled under his skin.
He looked determined. The white light of Hope shone from his chest.
But he could not look Human.
He tried to look angry at the Gu, but his face was merely stiff. It was a biological reaction, not an emotional one.
He tried to look sad about his loss, but his eyes were dry as deserts. He could not weep.
He was raw existence, unmasked and vulnerable in his terrifying honesty