Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4 - 7 2018 | Page 21

The moment I turn around to leave, something in the corner catches my eyes. A girl is kneeling in front of
a grave. The picture on the grave is what catches my eyes. It’s the man who raped my girlfriend. The man I
killed. The girl looks like she’s in her 20s, which reminds me of my sister. Is she the man’s sister?
I decide to walk towards her and have a chat with her.
“Are you okay?” I pat her shoulder gently.
She looks up. Her eyes are red and there’re tears on her cheeks. She stands up and forces a smile on her face,
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Was that your…brother?” I ask softly. She nods. “I’m so sorry…for your loss,” a pang of guilt runs through
my heart as I speak. “This may be a little rude, but may I ask… how did your brother die?”
“It’s okay. My brother… did something bad. The victim’s brother murdered him out of revenge.” The girl
turns her head and stares at the picture on the grave with sadness.
“Do you... hate the killer?” I realize what a stupid question it is as soon as it leaves my lips.
But what she was about to say would surprise me, “No.” She looks at me and shakes her head. “I don’t
blame the killer. Besides, everyone in this world will die one day, sooner or later. It’s just a matter of time.”
She turns around again and looks at the grave.
“Aren’t you a monk? You should be very clear that nothing in this world ever truly exists by itself according
to Buddhism. If something has to happen then nothing can stop it from happening. It has all been arranged
already. The only thing that we can do is to accept, and to adapt,” the girl speaks peacefully. “I understand
it’s useless to feel upset about the death of my brother. Still, I can’t help to feel sad because I miss him. I’m
learning to let go even though it’s difficult to do so. But really, I don’t blame the murderer. Death is for
everyone, the only question is when.”
I am completely speechless. Yes, I understand what the girl is saying. Everything in this world is composed
of separate elements. If these elements disappear, the “product” disappears. So why was my former self so
stubborn to seek revenge? My mind wanders away until I realize the girl has left already.
I turn around, and continue my journey to the west.
At last of course, with the help of Wukong, I eventually bring back the Buddhist scripture to China. Yet I
still choose to be a monk even after I have completed my mission. Those memories from my last lifetime are
not “painful” anymore. They are just… memories, nothing more than that.
Apparently, “letting go” is my mantra.