Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction Group 3 | Page 279

I had a psychological problem. My mother stood with a strange mix of anger, fear and relief. Anger for the
rise of this ‘problem’, fear for the future, and relief that the cause for these ‘episodes’ was finally discovered. I
attempted to assure her that I was fine. My small, supple hand was thrown away by her’s, hard and wrinkled,
from years of hard work and pain. Her life had been written down, destined, long before she was born, just
like millions of others’, who did what they did because they were forced to, expected to, against their will.
Was my future written down as well? Was this the life I wanted for myself?
It wasn’t any kind of material wealth.
“Zheng!”, the Emperor called. Zheng? As soon as I remembered myself, I rushed to his aid. Strange, how I
could forget my own name. I felt a little distant from my identify that day, I couldn’t understand why. As if
I wasn’t really myself, but an imposter who resided in the same body, though fully aware of this the entire
time. My peers called me ‘disoriented’ that day. I somewhat agreed, but was too busy pondering an
important life-choice. What was my goal in life?
Maybe it was hope.
I sat at the top of the hill that faced the glistening sea. Shimmering waves danced around in the clear blue
water like restless silver spangles. “Why is mama sending you to a psychologist?” my little brother Ma asked
innocently. I shrugged. Much as I hated the idea, my mother would have her reasons. As I mustered up a
better answer, something caught my eye. It was large, growing larger. Majestic, grand, compelling. “Ma..
can you see that? Over there, near the horizon. Do you see it?” Ma stood up but looked confused. “That..
that fleet of ships!”, I cried, beckoning him to see. “I see nothing.” Ma said. “You must really be mad….
Maybe it was hard work.
I seemed eternally unsatisfied. It seemed as though material wealth and items were of no use to me. Then
suddenly it clicked, the small light bulb that was my brain. The voyages, they meant something more.
Something more than finding out who I was, or what my ‘real’ life was. The idea slowly grew on me, that
this ‘curse’ as I had so blindly named it, was bestowed on me for a reason larger than my mind, than my life,
and that it was the raison d’etre of my existence. I had only just digested the inner meaning of the story,
being so tangled in its outline. I wanted to go back, experience the stories again, when I realised that they
were real, they were happening, to me…
Maybe it was love.
I sat by my window writing the events of our most recent voyage. Half of me was in the Persian Gulf, Red
Sea, the coast of Africa, but the other half was somewhere else. I looked out of the window facing the sea,
the moon casting its beams on the strong waves, strong but delicate at the same time. They could wash you
away, or bring you back to the shore. I wished for a moment that I would be washed away, to a place where
I could learn the truth about life.
I knew what it was.
I lay on my bed wondering. If only I had realised this before. I had finally found the truth about life, the
secret I sought so desperately. If everyone knew this, they would live better and have a more fruitful life.
The secret of life was...
We could find a thousand treasures, but not one would make us truly happier. It was like a jar filled with
poison and nectar, poison being the sadness, anger, negativity, and nectar being happiness. It seemed as
though giving a drop of your nectar to someone else, added a drop into yours. It seemed as though I was
living in Zheng He’s story, his own emotional journey, of finding the secret of life. The elixir of
immortality. Now that the flashes had stopped, I imagined the Zheng had also discovered the secret.