Vol.2 Chap.37 Seeking answers

Very early the next morning, May-Ling woke up after a very restless night. She had turned and tossed all night along. She wondered whether she slept at all. Her mind was filled with the past; and lots of images were flooding past her consciousness and lots of memories rising from her unconsciousness.

She had always been a light sleeper, but last night was one of the worst nights. It seemed she had a lot of dreadful nights recently. She turned to the other side of the bed, expecting Haw-Ting to be sleeping soundly, but she was jolted into consciousness when her hand felt nothing. She turned around to look at the clock. It was quarter to five in the morning.

Quietly, she put on her slippers and slipped on her gown and headed to the bathroom. After splashing her face with cold water, she was a little more awake. Quickly and silently, she took out the wardrobe that she had prepared for special occasions. It was a long black dress. She dressed quickly. Glancing back at her bed, her heart sank when she realized that Haw-Ting was not there and will never be there anymore. With one last longing look, she grabbed her sandals and left the house.

The air was humid and damp. It was not unusual to have fog and heavy condensation in the chilly morning at this time of the year. But this morning the fog is unusually dense. She thought to herself that it would most likely rain later. But she was already down the street and she did not want to go back to the house to get the umbrella. It did not matter anymore. So, she pushed on through the winding streets.

The morning light was about to break. She barely made out the silhouette of the houses and the hills beyond. Even though it was early in the morning, she met several street vendors pushing their cart with their wares toward the marketplace. She recognized quite many of them. They saw her and nodded at her. She waved back. She wound through several crooked streets.

To those who are not familiar with this area, there was no order and no directions. The streets meandered around even in circles, sometimes according to the local terrain and people’s houses. But she knew the place well. This was the way she came every day to work. She walked briskly, holding her scarf close to her face to ward off the morning chill.

She rounded another street and came to an old building. Mindlessly, her feet had brought her here. The wooden plaque outside said The Tsai-Chen Clinic.

For the past five years, she and her husband had built this place with their sweat and blood. After the tradition of her parents, they worked hard and long to take care of all those needy coming to the clinic. Usually, they would come to the clinic before seven thirty in the morning and have a short time to handle paperwork and general housekeeping. Then by eight thirty, there will be a long line outside the clinic and she and her husband will be overwhelmed with patients till late in the evening.

But today was special. She got up early, not because she had to come to the clinic. It just so happened that the clinic was on the way to where she had to go. She passed the clinic quickly. She did not want to dwell on the clinic. A few more streets down, the street ended abruptly, and the road turned into a winding dirt road. She walked up the dirt road.

The air was fresh and fragrant. All around the hills were little yellow flowers that are in bloom in this season. She could not resist, so turning aside, she took a handful of the yellow flowers. She took a deep sniff and bathed herself in the sweet fragrance. Satisfied, she got back to the trail. Over the treetop, the dawn light was brightening.

As she climbed higher, a slight wind started to blow. She really did not care because the wind helped to lift the fog up. As she strolled further, the dirt road got narrower and steeper. She had to concentrate on where she was stepping for fear that a misstep would send her rolling down the hillside.

The dirt road ended in a long series of steps. Yes, there was a total of 242 steps. She had counted them many times already in the past. Today, she really did not have to count anymore. She knew how many steps she had gone and how many more she had to go. Without stopping, she climbed the steps, but resisted the urge to jump up two steps at a time, because she knew she had to conserve her energy. It was going to be a long day, and she really had little rest last night.

After another half an hour, she finally arrived at the top. Though quite out of breath physically, her spirits were lifted when she saw the temple rose from the mist. She looked around and saw no one. She was not expecting anyone to be up here that early in the morning. The monks would be up, but they would all be meditating elsewhere at this time. This morning, she treasured the silence and the opportunity to be alone with herself, her own feelings, to be in touch with her inner sanctum.

She walked toward the front door and carefully took out a handful of incense before arriving at the door. They are stored in a box hanging on the pole next to the doorjamb. The monks put them there for the convenience of the guests coming to worship at the temple. She walked to the door and opened the door. Normally, the temple was not opened that early in the morning, but the monks knew she would come on this special day. So, they open the door for her early in the morning.

Reverently, she entered the temple and closed the door behind her. She stepped to the front, took the incense, lit them, and put them in the incense holder in front of the Buddha statues. Kneeling on the finely knitted pillows, now worn and faded because of overuse, she could hold it no longer. She put her hands up to cover her face and burst into tears.

It had been twenty years since her parents were killed. She had been coming to this temple for over five years now. Yet every time when she was here, the memory of her parents passing away was just as real as if it had happened yesterday.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Next, she heard her mother shouting also, “Oh, my God! There are so many bodies around. Lon-Lai, this one has a bad open wound and blood is gushing out.”

Then she heard her father replied, “Forget that one, I need help here right no. This one has just stopped breathing!”

It was pandemonium, but no one would come out and help. Only May-Ling’s parents were out on the streets frantically trying to revive anyone who was not breathing…

She ran straight to her mother who was lying on the street in a pool of blood. She fell to her knees and shook her mother. There was no answer. Her mother could not move and could not answer her. Her cold and bullet-riddled body lay twisted on the pavement from the fall. May-Ling, shocked, stood up and stumbled backwards. She could not comprehend what had happened to her mother. She could not accept what had happened to her mother. Next, she looked around and found her father close to her mother. She ran to him immediately.

“Papa! Papa!”

His mouth trembled slightly.

“May-Ling, I think your dad wants to say something. Lean your ear to his mouth and listen to what he has to say.” Uncle Zhang said.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Papa! Please don’t leave me.” She was sobbing uncontrollably…

“May……Ling…”

“Yes, Papa?”

“Promise…me…that…you…will…fin…ish…my… work…and…” The mouth felt silent, and the pulse was gone.

I promise…sob, sob…Papa…sob, sob…I promise. Sob.”

The incense that she had lit earlier in the morning had long since been burnt into stumps. There was no more fire. It was just a thin, smoldering line of smoke rising lazily up to the roof, trying in vain to fill the room.

Still deep in her memories, she slowly stood up, nodded to the Buddha three times, and retreated to the door of the temple. She stood there for a long time with her eyes fixed on the Buddha statue.

Deep inside, she knew it was time to go, but her burden had not been discharged. She had not found her relief. She could not go and she did not want to go, not yet.

If she had a choice, she would stay in the temple every day, all day. She pushed the door open and exited the temple. She meandered around the court of the temple. The morning light was a little brighter. Most of the fog had been lifted. She saw the village in the distance. The village was her living place for the past twenty-seven years.

Without thinking, almost mechanically, she picked up more incense and brought them inside the temple again. Walking to the front, she lit the incense and placed them carefully into the incense holder. She walked back. There were a few low benches in the middle of the temple. She sat down on one of them, facing forward toward to the Buddha. As she sat there meditating, the images of her parents’ funeral came into her consciousness from deep within her…

The dirge was slow and sad. Each note was long, unsteady, and drawn out. Every tone was a minor chord, and every chord rose and fell like the rising and ebbing of the waves. Every note of music tucked and pulled at her heart. There was a question in each bar of music, yearning and asking for a reason.

Why? Why? Why?

She did not know why, neither did all the surrounding people. The dirge went on and on and on. With each note, something in her heart dissolved and disappeared. With each chord, a little more of her life was taken away. There were no laughs, only sobs. There were no answers, only questions. There was no happiness in the air, only sadness. There was no joy, only disappointment. There was no satisfaction, only bewilderment.

She tried to look around, but saw nothing. Her eyes were red and swollen. She could not focus on her surroundings. Everything was a blur to her at this point.

She was walking next to her grandfather, whom she affectionately called Grandpapa. She was barely twelve years old, though old enough to feel the sadness and the loss, but too young to understand what had happened and too naïve to comprehend her dire predicament.

She held on tightly to his hands and would not let go. She squeezed hard on his hands, to reassure herself that he was there and would squeeze again to make sure that he was still there. He was the only one in this world that cared about her, the only one that she had presently. Now and then, she would squeeze his hands again and he would squeeze back as if to reassure her he was still here for her. He would not abandon her. He may be old, he may be slow, but he would always be there for her. Still, the emptiness within her could not be filled, regardless of how much her Grandpapa was holding on to her. Something within her had been taken from her with no warning and without reason…

She raised her head and looked at the Buddha in front of her. She stared at the benevolent Buddha, looking for inspiration, as she had done many times before. The image of Buddha gave her strength and peace. Whenever she was disappointed, she would come and get comfort. When she was distressed, she would come and get renewal.

She had never considered herself to be a very religious person, but she believes in giving reference and adoration to a higher being whom she believed had guided her footsteps. She looked at the incense; it was almost completely spent. She stood up and lit a new bunch of incense. Her heart was still heavy this morning. The images of her youth were so vivid and lived in her memory. It almost seems like the events only occurred yesterday…

When they were about to pass one of the fancy restaurants, the kitchen door suddenly swung open. She took a quick peek and could see the people working inside. They were running around in a frenzy. A young man was washing dishes outside the kitchen door. He was fair skinned and seemed to be very shy. But he was staring and smiling at her. She glanced away and walked on. She thought he was too forward to be smiling at her, though her heart raced a bit as she glanced back at him…

May-Ling smiled and then sighed immediately. She remembered her first meeting with Haw-Ting vividly.

Since that incident, she would always wait for him before and after school. The two had become inseparable. No matter how others had teased them at school year after year, the two stuck with one another.

High school days flew by rather quickly and uneventfully. Every day, she would get up early in the morning. Grandpa Chen usually had breakfast ready for her. After breakfast, she would go to the restaurant and wait for Haw-Ting. Then the two would go to school together. After class, they would walk back to the restaurant together. She would help in the restaurant by washing dishes and do whatever they asked her to do. He also helped as an assistant cook. During the weekends, they would study together and get caught up on their schoolwork. Haw-Ting’s parents were nice to her, seeing that she was a good worker. Eventually, they treated her as part of the family.

“Dong…….”

What was that? She was awoken from a deep consciousness.

“Dong…….”

The sound was loud. She looked around and gradually she recalled coming to the temple earlier this morning.

“Dong…….”

Another loud noise pierced the silence and serenity of the temple. There were a total of seven ear-piercing strikes on the gong.

She realized that was the familiar sound of the gong from the temple indicating to the sleepy village below that the time now was seven o’clock in the morning. The monks were announcing to the village below that now was the time to go to work. It was also a sign to the monks living inside the temple compound that their meditation time had ended and their workday had begun.

She was about to stand up, but noticed there was a bowl of porridge and two pieces of onion pastry on a plate next to where she was sitting. She did not recall having seen the monks coming in with the food. But she knew the monks had come and took care of her breakfast. She was thankful. The walk up the hill had made her starving. She gobbled down the onion pastry and washed the last little crumbs with the porridge.

She searched her pocket for a piece of paper. Not finding any, she took a ten rmb bill and wrote ‘thank you’ on top and placed it underneath the bowl and plate.

Though her heart was still heavy with the loss of her parents and her husband, yet deep inside her, she had the utmost sensation that there was still something missing in her life. It was something more than just the loss of her parents and her husband. It was an empty feeling of being unfulfilled, that her work had yet to begin.

Well, it was not about to begin as long as she was standing on top of the mountain. She chided herself that she had wasted so much time already. She had planned that she would be at the clinic half an hour ago. She walked over to the offering box and dropped a sizable sum of money into the offering box.

Since losing her parents, she had always felt alone. Though her grandfather tried to be as understanding as possible and took care of her as best as he knew how, yet her grandfather was no substitute for her parents. She was grateful to him, but she often found solace in her escape up the hill to the temple.

After her marriage, Haw-Ting was everything that she desired him to be, but still she sought the solace and comfort of the monks. They had brought her up in reverence and fear of God and instilled in her a sense of confidence and purpose. This temple was her hiding place, her sanctuary, and her source of inner strength. She turned around. She reverently nodded and bowed to the Buddha statue three times before leaving the temple after carefully closing the door behind her.

She hurried down the long series of steps. She had to hurry because it would be another half an hour before she could get to the hospital. Half way down the steps, she saw the monks in the distance. They were singing in unison while working on the fields. Some were working on the vegetable garden; others were cleaning on the fishponds. Three monks were off to the side, trimming the vine.

When she came close, they waved at her and she waved back at them. She also tried as best as she could to say thank you with her open palms. Deep inside her, she wished she could be there with them. She would love to be there singing the same song with them, wearing the same clothes, working on the same land. Oh, how she wished to be among them and be with them all the time without a care and without a worry.

Whenever she was in the temple or among the monks, she would forget about herself. She was happy, satisfied, and released. But underneath that peace and relief, there was constantly an urge to go on, a sense that something was not complete, and a sense that she had been called for higher purposes. For twenty-seven years, the sense was there, but there was no comprehension, no understanding, and no expression. She sensed the urge of the feelings, but there were no directions where she should go.