Once upon a time, in a small kingdom surrounded by rolling hills and sunflower fields, there lived a king named Oliver.
King Oliver was wonderful in every way—he was kind, always smiling, and even gave each cat in the castle a name. But he had one small problem: he loved gold too much.
His crown was gold, his scepter was gold, and even his slippers were gleaming gold (though they were hard and cold to wear—something he never admitted).
One night, King Oliver had a dream.
In the dream, an old man with a silver beard appeared before him and said with a smile, “Dear King, I can grant you one wish.”
King Oliver jumped up in excitement: “I want… everything in my kingdom to turn into gold!”
“Are you sure?” the old man asked, stroking his beard.
“Of course I’m sure!” King Oliver exclaimed. “Gold is so beautiful! It sparkles, and everyone loves it!”
The old man waved his hand gently and said, “Then so be it.”
The next morning, as soon as King Oliver opened his eyes, he discovered his pillow had turned to gold. Overjoyed, he ran barefoot to the window—
Wow! The roses in the garden had turned into golden roses, the fountain had become a golden fountain, and even the little birds in the trees had turned into golden birds, standing motionless on the branches like exquisite sculptures.
“This is amazing!” King Oliver clapped his hands in delight.
But when he went out to take a walk in the garden, he discovered that the golden roses no longer had any scent. The golden fountain no longer flowed. The golden birds could no longer sing.
Worse still, when he tried to hug his favorite little orange cat, Muffin, Muffin had turned into a gleaming golden statue—hard as a rock and unable to give off any warmth.
Holding the golden cat Muffin, King Oliver felt for the first time just how cold, cold gold really was.
He sat in the garden and said sadly, “I don’t want gold anymore. I’d much rather have a little flower that smells sweet, a little bird that sings, and a warm little cat.”
Just then, a gentle breeze blew by, and the old man with the silver beard appeared again.
“Are you sure?” the old man asked.
“I’m absolutely sure!” King Oliver nodded vigorously. “Gold may be beautiful, but things that can smile, sing, and give hugs are what’s truly precious.”
The old man smiled, his beard fluttering in the breeze. With a gentle tap of his finger, everything returned to the way it had been—the rose once again gave off a sweet fragrance, the fountain began to sing with a gurgling sound, the little birds chirped from the branches, and Muffin, the little orange kitten, meowed and rubbed against King Oliver’s palm, warm and cozy.
From that day on, King Oliver still loved shiny things, but what he loved most of all was—
The morning sun streaming into the garden, Muffin curled up on his lap, purring, birds singing outside the window, and on the distant hill, sunflowers turning toward the sun, blooming one by one, slowly.
He felt that this was the most beautiful sight in the world.
Good night, and have a sweet dreams.
