The sun is not real. It is a cognitive placeholder. We did not discover the east—we invented it, because cognition cannot begin without a first anchor, and that anchor, in daylight, must be one thing, shared by all. Everything else follows: the west is deduced, the north is projected, the south is an afterthought. Time, calendar, myth, and the entire cosmic order are not descriptions of the world—they are an operating manual for a cognition that has forgotten it is reading itself. This paper decodes the mythic grammar of ancient China—盘古, 后羿, 共工, 颛顼, 女娲, 伏羲—not as primitive cosmology, but as a high-precision map of cognitive structure. The heavens were not severed; they were fixed, so that society could function. The earth was not flattened; it was flattened, so that we could stand together. And that crack patc女娲hed with five-colored stones? It is still there, beneath our feet—a 5.25° residual that no coordinate system can absorb. The well of cognition is not a trap. It is the price of seeing. And the only way out is to realize that the walls are your own skull.