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The easiest way of worship is the way a believer looks at their god. Kneeling at the feet of their statue, gazing up at the unblemished marble and believing the god to be the same way: polished, without imperfections, the very manifestation of everything they stand for. It’s easy to put their deity on a pedestal, to see only the good, the powerful.
This is what Mei Nianqing muses upon as he enters a small shrine. No matter how powerful the deity, poor villages will never be able to raise grand temples to their gods: and thus, instead of a marble statue stands a wooden replica of the Heavenly Emperor, looking over the small offering table. Nianqing kneels right in front of it, replacing the used incense sticks with new ones, cleaning up old offerings of food and fruits with fresh bounties, collected from the villagers who couldn’t visit their beloved god’s shrine due to whatever circumstances. At last, he lets himself relax. He looks up at the statue.
It is an easy, simple form of worship, but it is also fickle. The devotion has to go both ways: the believers pray, the god answers. Any moment of weakness from the god, and the humans will turn their love to another deity. They sneer at the slightest crack, turn their back after the smallest stumble. Will become hostile if they glance even the idea of the shadow behind the statue lit by the sun.
Nianqing knows this very well. He has seen this happen in the past, and knows history is bound to repeat itself. Soon, the news of the Heavenly Emperor’s fall will reach even this remote village. In a couple weeks, they will replace the statue with a new one. In a year, they will forget about the god they thought they loved so much. Still, he smiles at the statue, then lowers his body until his forehead gently knocks against the ground, and prays.
Rare is the person who looks at someone on a pedestal, and looks at its shadow not out of malice, but out of caring. Who wants to see the cracks of the statue not to tear them open, but to press their lips against it, to try and seal them as much as they can with nothing but affection. Who wants to see everything, the good and the bad, who wants to reach up to the god on the pedestal and say, it's alright. You can step down. For the greatest honour would be to see you up close to me.
“You never have to be perfect around me, and for you to know that, and trust that, is greater than any godly blessing you could ever bestow upon this believer.” Nianqing murmurs, only to hear a light chuckle coming from the statue.
“Qing’er, what nonsense are you talking about again?”
The priest slowly sits up from his kowtow, eyes closed, a gentle smile on his face. He listens to the rustle of clothing, the approaching steps, and doesn’t startle when a hand takes hold of his jaw, tilting his face up. Slowly, his eyes blink open.
In the last temple of Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu, a believer kneels. He gazes upon his god - the ragged clothes, the old bamboo hat, the scars covering his face - and thinks: thank you, my dear Highness, for letting me see you. For not pushing me away. For letting me love you.
“My Highness. Let’s go home.”