Living to Suffer

I

As he faded in and out of consciousness,Shen Liangsheng caught the sound of rain hitting an umbrella. Showers in the summertimewere swift and heavy, and when the droplets. .h.i.t the canopy, they were likebooming war drums rousing him out of his dreamlike state.

The first thinghe saw after his eyes blinked open was the underside of an oil-paper umbrellapainted with yellow reeds. The art was realistic and conveyed the plant’ssubmission to the elements.

He heard someonesaying, “This rain will not last long. It should be ceasing soon,” andimmediately tried to reach for his sword. Ch’in Ching, who was holding theumbrella and watching him, noticed the man’s twitching fingers. He leaned incloser.

There were no signs of human activity inthese deserted hills other than the two of them. The heavily wounded ShenLiangsheng had come upon this abandoned shrine and attempted to enter in orderto escape the rain and tend to his injuries. Unfortunately, his body gave out beforehe could do so, and he collapsed at the entrance.

The t’utishrine had long ago been abandoned and was so deteriorated the door had cavedin and was lying askew in the mud. Shen Liangsheng had tripped on it, fallen onits wooden boards and lost consciousness for about half the time of a burnedincense stick.

The blood flow wastoo profuse to be washed away by the rain. The scarlet seeped into the boardsand welled up again with the rainwater from the cracks in the wood. Rich andfresh, it was not unlike a new coat of vermillion paint on the bottom of acoffin.

Seeing thispitiful man hovering between life and death, Ch’in Ching was hesitant but stillasked frankly, “What is your name? It’d be easier to erect a tombstone for youif you die.”

While Ch’inChing was speaking, Shen Liangsheng was calling upon his core ch’i.Every pathway in his body was in pain as though a thousand blades were grindingagainst his insides, and he could not make a sound.

Receiving noresponse, Ch’in Ching a.s.sumed that the man did not want to end his life here,so he nodded and remarked, “Indeed, it is better to stay alive than not.”

Although he was in excruciating pain, ShenLiangsheng did not want to pa.s.s out again, so he forced himself to stayconscious and made eye contact with Ch’in Ching.

Ch’in Chinglooked back at the man and saw no signs that the man desired rescue, nor did hefind any pride or stubbornness. The man’s eyes were cold and still like icyponds reflecting his silhouette – half-bent, holding an umbrella with one handand scratching his head with the other, all while staring intently, almostdumbly, back at the man.

Ch’in Chingcoughed and straightened his back wanting to recover his image as a dignifiedand otherworldly figure, but even he himself wanted to laugh at the attempt,which led him to cough once more before speaking in a serious tone. “I inspectedyour pulse earlier. With the internal and external wounds, you are essentiallyon your last breath, but worry not, I am not one to leave a patient in need.Only if I were to move you…I’m afraid you might not survive the trip. What say you?”

As the hufaof an esoteric sect, Shen Liangsheng had an extraordinary pulse and ch’i. He knew that his injuries were notas severe as the man thought and that it actually would be difficult for him todie even if he were to lie here and be rained on for another day and night, letalone from being moved.

Shen Liangshengconsidered his choices. If he were to light his sect’s signal flare, there wasno telling whether it would attract friend or foe, so it would be best to save thisoption for the direst of situations. At present, there was someone willing torescue him, so he was going to let the man do so. As for the man’s backgroundand the sincerity of his actions, he would have to wait and see.

Ch’in Chingwatched the man give the tiniest nod after some silence and took it as consentto proceed. He then closed the umbrella and tucked it under his arm beforebending down in an attempt to lift the man. Unfortunately, Ch’in Ching was notparticularly skilled in martial arts, and the bit that he knew used techniques thatwere highly dependent on agility and using the opponent’s force against him.When it came to raw strength, he was not much different than someone with nomartial arts knowledge at all. He truly did not have it in him to carry a man closeto his own height while holding an umbrella under his arm at the same time, sohe heaved a sigh and abandoned the umbrella. Using the full strength of botharms, he hoisted the man up. “Whew, that’s heavy.”

Eyes closed in aresting state, Shen Liangsheng felt the man activate his ch’ingkung for the trip aheadand thought to himself, what terrible technique. If this was a portrayal of theman’s skills as a doctor, then he likely would have to cure himself. With that,he stopped paying attention to the man and the b.u.mpy journey and began recitinghis own secret mantra to heal his wounded pathways.

The name of thismantra was The Emptiness of the Five Skandhas.Although the name had its origins in the Buddhist text,the Heart Sūtra,it was merely borrowed and the content had nothing todo with the neikungof the Buddhist sects.The essenceof the mantra, however, was indeed emptiness. While activated, the abilityslowed the pract.i.tioner’s pulse to a near stop. It was written in the sect’s scripturesthat, at the highest level, one could sustain a state of feigned death for acentury with only the tiniest shred of ch’iendlessly circulating within the body, and when revived, his power would bemultiplied a hundred times over, achieving invincibility.

The name ShenLiangsheng may sound effeminate, but he was inexpressive and hard-hearted exactlyas its literal meaning suggested. He had remarkable inner strength that madehim exceptionally well-suited to practise this mantra. Although he had notadvanced since achieving the seventh stage, when he activated the ability hispulse would become as slow and faint as that of a person seconds away fromdeath.

With noknowledge of this, Ch’in Ching only noticed that the man in his arms wasbreathing more and more softly. He accelerated his already rushed pace as despondencybegan creeping in. Although they were total strangers, he had given his word tosave him, and because of that he could not simply watch the man die in hisarms.

Indeed, the summertimeshower did not last long. The rain gradually eased up, and the sun appeared inthe horizon. The forest, flecked with gold and reverberating with bird chirpsand frog croaks, contrasted starkly with the lack of life in Ch’in Ching’sarms. He looked down at the man to find his face as pale as paper, lips drainedof colour. Yet, his expression was tranquil and devoid of pain.

Better that thana painful one, Ch’in Ching thought. Man had to go through life suffering moreor less. That the man could die without awareness of death and be relieved ofany suffering was his fortune.

Ch’in Chinglooked up. His medicine hut was beyond another hill, and he doubted that theman could last until then. His arms were sore, and he was having trouble carryingthe man’s weight. If he woke the man, he would only suffer, so Ch’in Ching madea quick stop and shifted the man in his arms to get a better grip.

Shen Liangshengwas meditating but still retained some awareness of his surroundings. FeelingCh’in Ching stop, he opened his eyes thinking they had arrived but only foundCh’in Ching frowning at him. The next moment, however, Ch’in Ching pulled acrooked smile after seeing Shen Liangsheng’s eyes.

“Only a littlebit more to go,” he soothed. “Are you sleepy? You can rest a while longer.”

In histwenty-six years of life, the hufahad never had anyone speak to him like a child. After only a moment, he noticedthe unpleasant emotions on his face and realized that the man most likelythought he was on his last burst of energy before death. Under the shadowysunlight, he even spotted what looked like a tear streak stretching from thecorner of his eye down the cheek.

He decided toreply, “My thanks.”

Shen-hufa was hardly a good man, yet amongstthe wicked he was a gentleman. Even when taking a life, he did not neglectetiquette – leaving behind a polite “Pardon me” after cutting a hole throughsomeone – causing his fellow sect members to grind their teeth in frustration.

Hearing theman’s grat.i.tude, Ch’in Ching cracked a wry smile, hoping that the man was not unintentionallythanking him for preparing his funeral. He felt disheartened inside, but thesmile on his face only widened.

Shen Liangshengdiscontinued the healing process with the mantra because firstly, the pain hadsubsided and secondly, haste makes waste. Since he was not in a rush, he calmlybegan to study the man speeding along with him in his arms. He felt absolutely nograt.i.tude. The world was filled with various types of goodness and beauty, andalso many kinds of evil and pain – ‘tis the natural way. Whether something wasgood or evil was of no consequence to him, for he saw it all as he would thesun and moon, or the gra.s.s and trees. He did not know what it meant to be moved.

“Hm?” After apot of tea’s time,Ch’in Ching began to notice the man’s breathing had become steadier and deeper,not typical of one who was breathing his last, and found it extraordinary. Helooked down with a smile, “It appears your time has not come.”

After extensiveobservation, the only thing on Shen Liangsheng’s mind was that the man had notcried. It was but a long scar, thread-thin and shallow, descending from thecorner of one eye like a tear streak. Only under careful examination did thetruth present itself.

A scar like this did not mar the face but ratheradded a unique twist to the man’s otherwise unremarkable complexion.Specifically when his lips curved upwards, the scar turned his face into asmiling sob, or perhaps it was a sobbing smile.