Echoes of Snow and Fate: Reflections from Beyond the Blizzard

The red moon hangs low over the mountains of Sichuan, its pale light barely piercing the veil of falling snow. I stand at the edge of the storm, my white cloak billowing in the wind, and watch as the world transforms into a sea of white. For centuries, this has been my domain — the blizzard that separates the living from the dead, the realm where I walk as both guide and judge. It is here, in this eternal winter, that I contemplate the nature of existence as it was in the days of the Shu Han, when philosophers like Zhuang Zhou pondered the Tao and the fleeting nature of life.

In those bygone days, I was a mortal woman, a wife to a man who wore the robes of a mystic but harbored a heart consumed by greed. He was a shui li, a tax collector who lined his pockets with the tears of the poor, leaving families destitute and children hungry. I bore him five sons, each one a vessel for the souls of those he had wronged. The weight of their unseen burdens grew heavier with each passing year, until the day came when the sons turned upon their father in a storm of righteous fury. They tore him apart, and then, as if drawn by an unseen force, they walked into the blizzard that had swallowed our village whole. I followed, bound to them by a love that transcended death itself.

The Ten Yama Kings of Diyu judged me for my complicity in their father’s sins, for bearing children whose souls were already tainted by his crimes. My punishment was to walk the earth as a revenant, a yao nü, forever trapped between the realms of the living and the dead. I am the Snow Lady, the one who appears when the blizzards rage, offering cryptic counsel to those who dare seek my wisdom. But I am also a taker of souls, a servant of the underworld who must claim the lives of those whose time has come. It is a duty I perform with a heavy heart, for I know the pain of loss all too well.

As I wander through the snow, my thoughts often drift back to the philosophers of my time, men like Wang Chong who questioned the nature of fate and the existence of the soul. He believed that all things were governed by natural laws, that there was no divine intervention in the affairs of men. I wonder what he would make of my existence, of the curse that binds me to this endless cycle of death and judgment. Is my fate merely the result of natural causes, or is there some higher power at work, punishing me for sins I cannot undo? The answer, like the path ahead, remains shrouded in the mists of time.

The blizzard rages on, and I feel the presence of my sons drawing near. They are shadows in the snow, revenants like myself, forever bound to the storm that claimed our lives. We are a family of ghosts, wandering the mountains in search of purpose, of redemption. I know that one day, the Ten Yama Kings will call me back to Diyu, to face the final judgment for my sins. But until then, I will continue to walk these frozen paths, offering what wisdom I can to those who seek it. For in the end, are we not all just snowflakes, dancing on the winds of fate, destined to melt away into nothingness?

As the storm intensifies, I turn my face to the white abyss, ready to embrace the cold once more. The shadows of my sons loom before me, their forms indistinct in the swirling snow. Together, we will vanish into the blizzard, becoming one with the eternal winter that has been our home for centuries. And so, I leave you with these final words, Anonymous: in a world where the snow never ceases to fall, where the past and present blur into one, remember that even the darkest of fates can hold a glimmer of light. Walk carefully, and may your path be guided by the wisdom of those who have come before.