In the primordial age of the world, when the boundaries between the heavens and the earth were still thin, there lived a tribe of giants known as the Kuafu people. They were the descendants of Houtu, the deity of the earth, and they possessed strength that could rival the shifting of tectonic plates. Among them was their leader, a giant also named Kuafu, whose stature was so immense that his head brushed the clouds and his footsteps echoed like thunder across the northern plains. Kuafu was not merely a creature of brawn; he possessed a deep, restless spirit and a heart that felt the suffering of his kin. During the long, harsh winters and the scorching, unpredictable summers, the people of the world struggled under the erratic whims of the celestial bodies. Kuafu looked up at the sun—the great Golden Crow that journeyed across the sky daily—and conceived a plan that most would deem impossible. He decided he would chase the sun, catch it, and hold it in place to ensure that his people would always have just the right amount of light and heat, ending the cycles of darkness and cold forever.
Setting out from his home in the northern wilderness, Kuafu gripped a massive walking stick made of seasoned, ancient wood. This staff was his constant companion, helping him navigate the treacherous terrain of a young world. As the sun rose in the east, Kuafu began his sprint. Each of his strides covered leagues, crossing entire mountain ranges in moments. He raced westward, following the golden path of the solar chariot. The air around him shimmered with the heat radiating from the sun, but Kuafu did not falter. He ran through the valleys of what would later be known as Shanxi and Henan, his eyes fixed on the brilliant orb that seemed to dance just beyond his reach. The sweat from his brow fell like torrential rain, creating temporary streams in the dust of his wake. He was driven by a singular, heroic obsession: to master the sun itself.
As the day progressed, the distance between the giant and the sun narrowed. However, the closer he got, the more the Sun’s intense heat began to take its toll. The Golden Crow, sensing the giant’s approach, burned with even greater intensity. Kuafu’s throat became parched, like a desert bed that had not seen water for centuries. The heat was no longer just an external force; it felt as though a fire was being stoked within his very lungs. Realizing he could not continue without water, Kuafu veered toward the Great Yellow River (Huang He). He knelt at the riverbank and began to drink. Such was his thirst that the mighty river, which sustained millions of life forms, began to recede. In a few massive gulps, the Yellow River was drained to its muddy bottom. Yet, the fire in his throat remained. He turned his attention to the Wei River, another great artery of the land. Again, he drank until the riverbed was dry, the stones gasping for moisture. The giants of the Kuafu tribe were known for their appetites, but this was a thirst born of a celestial pursuit.
Despite consuming two of the greatest rivers in the Middle Kingdom, Kuafu was still unsatisfied. He looked further north toward the Great Marsh (Han Hai), a legendary body of water said to be vast enough to quench even the gods. With his strength failing and his vision blurring from the sun's glare, he leaned heavily on his wooden staff and tried to push forward. Every muscle in his giant frame screamed in protest. The Zhongtiao Mountains stood before him, their rugged peaks catching the afternoon light. It was here, in the shadow of these mountains, that the limits of his divine-giant heritage were finally reached. Kuafu’s heart, once full of noble ambition, gave out under the strain of the impossible chase. As the sun began its final descent toward the western horizon, the giant collapsed. The impact of his body hitting the earth was felt for hundreds of miles, causing the very foundations of the Zhongtiao range to tremble.