Huā Shén

Do you see there this man, sat on branch of tree to the white flowers, his long hair flowing at the wind, his hanfu at the shimmering colors? Do you hear this fine melody at mild air tune of xiāo? A melody if beautiful but however if sad. Do you perceive?

This man solitary name Huā Shén. Huā like the flower, Shén like the god. Solitary and without expression: Huā Shén god of flowers.

Huā Shén has always demanded for why reason the human's life has if complicated. That did five hundred years he makes sur of this fishermen town and it's always the same history. Birth, life, death. Jealousy, envy, cries. The flowers god doesn't understand humans and will them perhaps never. In five hundred years, the humans haven't changed and be same always: strange and vicious. But what makes them happy?

At human scale, five hundred years it's long but for the gods the immortality is infinite. After a while they are bored. For Huā Shén it's interminable. He stays here perched on branch watched these disgusting humans, fascinating by their huge hypocrisy.

The Love? A disguised hatred

The Happiness? An artificial illusion

The Mercy? A dismissive indifference