Chapter 95 Noah
In the winter of 1574, a heavy snow fell, and the mortal realm was gripped by an unprecedented cold.
God stood atop a high cliff, the north wind whipping his tattered clothes. His golden eyes pierced the poisonous fog of hell, gazing into the abyss. The fire of the underworld lay dormant beneath the frozen earth, stirring with the Creator's will, awaiting only God's command to unleash a raging inferno, turning the wasteland to scorched earth.
The world had already fallen. God, unwilling to waste any more time, was about to throw a withered branch off the cliff when he heard a voice shout behind him.
"You mustn't do that!"
Thinking he was about to commit suicide, a man lunged forward, catching the lame man and rolling him away from the edge.
God knew someone was behind him, but he hadn't expected such recklessness.
In that instant, a tremendous sense of crisis enveloped him, but then the destructive threat faded, and Noah regained his composure. He lowered his head, intending to teach the suicidal man a lesson.
"What can't be overcome in life…" he murmured, then noticed a pair of eyes, surprisingly bright, beneath the man's disheveled hair, staring intently at his hands.
At the point where the two hands were clasped, a sturdy wooden staff gleamed faintly, warm to the touch.
"This is truly fine wood…" he instinctively released his grip.
God, however, looked strangely at the withered branch, feeling a tiny hint of vibrant green sprouting beneath his palm, and didn't even pursue the man's offense.
He looked at the man, and the one who rested was bewildered by that gaze.
"Are you alright?"
He didn't look well. God looked at his leg; following the rules of the world, it had limped even more.
"I'm sorry, but you shouldn't have done something so dangerous," Noah said guiltily.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Throw it away."
The voice was pure and moving, but against the backdrop of the surrounding snow, it carried a chilling quality.
"Why throw it away?" Noah glanced at the withered branch.
"It's useless."
"How can it be useless? You could even keep it to burn for warmth! Look, in the dead of winter, I have to go through the trouble of going up the mountain to chop wood," Noah said, pointing to the scattered firewood nearby.
God remained silent; he had indeed almost burned it, along with the world.
"Where is your home?"
"The whole world is mine."
So he was a homeless wanderer. Noah's tone softened considerably.
"Don't you have any family?"
"Friends?"
"A lover?"
Nothing.
Noah somewhat understood why he had contemplated suicide. He couldn't leave him alone on the cliff, thinly dressed, in the snow. Knowing he had nowhere to go, Noah invited him to come home with him.
"It's just at the foot of the mountain, if you don't mind."
The man refused assistance, using a withered branch to stand up. Noah, seeing that he moved relatively easily, was relieved. He deftly bundled the scattered firewood.
He was nearly middle-aged, yet strong and robust, carrying a large bundle of firewood on his back without any effort.
The man walked with Noah. He was very talkative, and soon Noah learned from his conversation that he had a wife, three children, and an elderly person to care for.
Even without being told, Noah knew his situation. Leaning on his cane, he followed Noah step by step down the mountain.
The man, understanding Noah's difficulty, walked slowly. As they rounded the mountain path, his light brown eyes inadvertently caught sight of their footprints.
Only two rows of footprints were visible in the snow, one a mixture of snow and mud, the dark tracks clearly visible—they were his own.
The other row was spotless, and compared to the guests' silence, he felt more and more like he'd brought down a snowman.
The house, as he'd said, was in the valley.
It was a small, dilapidated wooden hut, patched and repaired from roof to door, but still barely keeping out the cold wind.
When they returned, a boy was standing in the doorway, looking troubled by the crooked wooden door. His eyes lit up when he saw him.
"Father! You're finally back! Great-grandfather was looking everywhere for you, and nothing we said could stop him!"
"I know. Go tell your mother we have guests tonight," Noah said, handing the firewood to his eldest son to carry to the kitchen.
Shan glanced at the 'guests,' his eyes filled with undisguised curiosity, but he said nothing. He took the firewood from his father's back and hoisted it onto his own shoulders; he was as strong as Noah, and it was effortless for him.
"It's so windy today. I just fixed the door this morning," Noah said, scratching his hair, looking a little embarrassed. Fortunately, the guest didn't say anything, seemingly uninterested in being a guest in either the palace or the cabin.
He locked the door, intending to come back to fix it later, and invited the guest inside to escape the cold.
God followed him into the cabin and found it small and incomplete, but lively.
Six people were crammed into the tiny space, with an elderly man yelling at two younger children. How could it not be lively?
"I don't want you!" The old man pushed aside one of his great-grandchildren, flailing his arms in the air.
"Noah," he called his grandson's name.
"Noah."
Noah exchanged an apologetic glance with the guest, then went to the old man and took his hand.
"Grandpa, I'm here."
The old man's eagle-claw-like hand gripped his tightly.
"Where have you been? Why can't I find you?"
"I went to the mountain to chop wood."
"Chopping wood is good, chopping wood is good!" The old man nodded repeatedly, looking somewhat confused. "Don't follow others."
"Learn from your great-grandfather, he was God's favorite...only he is right."
"I know, Grandpa, we didn't do anything wrong."
"Good." He seemed calmer, then suddenly became agitated again.
"Lameh! Lamech, where are you?"
"Sally!" Noah grabbed him and called out a woman's name loudly.
A woman emerged from the smaller kitchen, wiping her apron with wet hands. She was plain-looking, but her eyes were simple and honest. She smiled shyly at the guests as a greeting, then went to her husband.
"Leave this to me, you go and entertain the guests."
"Grandpa, come on, I've prepared something delicious for you inside." She coaxed the old man away. God heard her calling her second son into the kitchen, then giving him some money to buy a chicken at the market.
"I'm sorry, I made you laugh."
Noah returned to the guest and said, "Please sit down, I'll go fix the door."
God held the door open for him, and the cold wind no longer blew into the house. Noah was somewhat surprised. He smiled, not refusing the lame man's kindness, but his conversation became even more intense.
He told the guest, whom he was meeting for the first time, his family story. It wasn't a good story; Noah had shouldered the burden of his family at a very young age.
His father, unable to bear the poverty, abandoned them. He had never been to school; his grandfather, before he became senile, taught him to read, and then he taught his three sons.
He rambled on, perhaps influenced by the atmosphere of home, or perhaps because he found the snowman he brought back very friendly; in any case, compared to when he was on the mountain, his demeanor was so relaxed, as if all his worries had vanished in front of the person before him.
"Since Father left home, Grandfather suffered a great blow, and his mind hasn't been very clear," he mumbled, chewing on a nail as he repaired the leaky wooden door.
"Who told Grandpa to make us so poor!" The blond boy jumped onto a chair, watching Noah patch the door, the chair creaking as he spoke.
"Hmm!" Noah gave his youngest son a warning look.
Seeing the doubt in his guest's eyes, he explained somewhat embarrassedly.
"You might not believe it, but despite our appearance, I've heard our ancestors were once wealthy."
He said this in a tone that sounded like a joke, but God knew he was telling the truth.
Han, impatient with these useless words, was the youngest son, spoiled and pampered by nature. He didn't care whether guests were present or not, and would cling to his father, begging for food.
"Ah, Father, I'm so hungry! When are we going to eat?"
"Wait until your second brother comes back," Noah said without even looking at him. "If you're bored, go inside and help your brother start the fire."
Winter days are short, and darkness fell quickly. When the kitchen chimney stopped spewing smoke, Noah's family's dinner was ready.
The main dish was a roasted chicken, golden brown, accompanied by boiled potatoes, each about the size of a fist, a large bowl of creamy soup, and a cold fruit and vegetable salad.
All of this was meticulously prepared by the lady of the house. The aroma of sesame oil filled the dilapidated old house, and even God couldn't help but swallow hard when he saw Noah's three sons.
God doesn't need to eat; in the dietary rules of Heaven, this was an unimaginably simple meal. However, in this family's way of life, they hadn't had such a sumptuous dinner in a long time.
This roast chicken had cost them a considerable amount of their savings. For the next few days, they would have to tighten their belts. The woman of the house had previously sat in the barn, a place even the rats avoided, worrying about how to allocate food for the coming days. Yet, despite this, she didn't complain about the guest her husband had brought home.
Why?
"We haven't had guests in a long time," Noah said happily.
Because the world had become so poor that no one would dare to come to their house for a meal.
They weren't incapable people, but simplicity and kindness couldn't bring wealth and satisfaction in this world.
Evil perpetuates itself, thus sin accumulates.
Yet, precisely in such an absurd world, the willingness to provide a sumptuous dinner for a stranger is all the more precious.
"Is dinner not to your liking?" Noah noticed that the guest hadn't eaten anything and stopped eating.
He picked up a knife, preparing to cut another piece of meat for the guest.
"No, I'm quite satisfied," God stopped him, saying.
"But…"
"I have to go, Noah. Go get my cane."
"Now?"
"Now."
This tone was nothing like that of a homeless man invited as a guest. The three boys at the table stared at the guest who was giving orders to their father.
No one could refuse God's word, whether it was reasonable or not. Noah didn't complain; he nodded, as if he wasn't surprised at all.
He remembered the cane was on the window near the door. He went to the corner where the cane was, only to find that the withered pine branch had sprouted lush needles.
It stood gracefully in the corner, like a guardian of life, the only sign of life in the winter.
Noah's family's kindness caused a miracle with the withered tree; it turned into a tree. Suddenly, the house was filled with a sweet fragrance, as if emanating from the tree. This fragrance permeated the house, like magic repairing the damage. The house looked better than when it was first built—no, even better.
"What is this?"
It was an embellishment, and also a gift from God.
"Noah! Suddenly there's so much food in the granary!" Noah's wife ran out, her face filled with shock.
Amidst the exclamations at the table, Noah turned, only to find the lame man gone, replaced by a figure shrouded in light.
"You..."
"The world is covered in sin, all mankind succumbs to temptation, and I am willing to destroy all of this," God said, looking at Noah with a cold tone.
"And this has not changed my mind."
Noah felt a chill run through him. He knelt before God, unable to utter a single word.
"A flood will come from heaven, and every living thing that has flesh and breath will die," God said slowly. He had changed his mind, no longer using the fire of the earth to burn away sin, even though that would have swiftly and decisively destroyed everything."
"Only you and your family are exempt."
…
The Messiah, upon learning of God's return to Heaven, rushed to see him, but before he could utter a single word,
"I wish to destroy the world."
The golden-eyed God stared coldly at him, uttering only this one sentence.
Not the destruction of people, but the destruction of the world.
The Messiah was speechless.
If before the Father was a burning mountain of flames, and though fearing the spread of the fire, he could still fight against it, now God was like an unmelting glacier on a snow-capped mountain, and nothing could change it.
He forgot how he had come out.
'You shouldn't speak to God like that.' He stared into the distance, his gaze unreadable.
'He is grieving.'
The entire world was unaware of the impending doom; who could grieve for them?
No one.
For the sake of fairness and justice, God would not only destroy people, but He would destroy the world.
"All living beings are like ants; why would a man care about the life or death of an ant?"
His heart was ashen, yet he forgot that ants were not man-made.
Man cannot empathize with ants, but this world was created by God's own hands, piece by piece.
The Son's murmured words were like knives, scraping at the heart of the ruler within the temple, leaving only a clanging metallic sound.
God's heart was like iron, his will firm and unwavering.
He would destroy this defiled world, waiting only for the last righteous among men to complete the ark.
Noah received a huge amount of timber and began building the ark, assigning his three sons to search for all kinds of plants and animals according to God's will.
This was no easy task; how many kinds of birds are there in the world?
This period was long, long enough for Shem, Ham, and Japheth to grow from boys into young men, long enough for them to each have families and lovers.
As their neighbors came and went, they grew to loathe Noah's family's actions. They kept too many animals, creating a noisy and messy environment that was disliked. Their malice towards the enormous, mysterious ark was almost overflowing.
They resisted everything abnormal, opposed what they didn't have.
Deep down, they feared this silent family. Why did they build the ark? Why did they collect animals? Why did they burn incense and pray to God daily?
Had God truly not given them a chance?
No one asked, no one was willing to change.
Noah's family were considered oddballs, drawing ridicule and scorn wherever they went.
But the ark's construction didn't stop. Noah found a book from his grandfather, and following the techniques described within, he accomplished an unprecedented feat:
A massive, three-masted sailing ship.
It took them fifty years to gather all the animals in the world and bring them back safely.
Then they spent over a year preparing food for all the animals, as well as food for their own family.
After the boat was built, the whole family moved in, except for Methuselah.
After Noah found the Book of Enoch, his folly seemed less severe, yet also more pronounced.
"I have lived long enough, longer than anyone else on earth," said Methuselah, gazing longingly at the land.
"Let me stay with it."
Noah was silent. He moved down from the boat again to stay with his grandfather.
"I won't go anywhere unless you leave."
Tears welled in Methuselah's eyes. It seemed their family was always doing foolish things.
"I am a fool. When my grandfather was alive, I advised him to leave when the family was at its peak, and we lost our wealth and power as a result…"
"Your father could have been the king of this world. He was a remarkable child; I know he was more capable than me."
"But in the end, he followed me, reduced to herding sheep and farming in the countryside."
"I don't regret it… I can be poor, I can suffer hunger and cold…"
"When I was young, I had no worries about food or clothing, but Noah," he said haltingly, "my grandson, this shouldn't be your fate."
"When I see you, it's like seeing my father Enoch."
Noah embraced him. The old man grew even thinner; in his arms, he was like a withered infant, weak yet unwilling to stop reminiscing.
"You…"