Enemies

“Xingba, why have I never had anyone to avenge in all my life? At my age, I suddenly feel so empty. It’s as if I’ve spent all this time running toward one destination, only to find, when I get there, that it wasn’t where I wanted to go.”

One of Ling Tong’s most important convictions in the first half of his life must have been getting revenge. But in the end, he never did. It took him ten years to come to know an “enemy” destined to leave an indelible mark on his life. Just as they finally let go of their old grudges and he was ready to take that step, the other man drifted away on the wind.

Filial piety, righteousness: perhaps these were the aims of a lifetime, yet he failed at both. And loyalty, the last thing he held on to: could even that now be in doubt? Time passes, and what we once thought most important may someday seem trivial or laughable. Or perhaps, in another’s eyes, childish and insignificant.

How many decades does a person get? How many things are worth pursuing for a lifetime? How many close friends can endure being missed time and again? Everyone has reason, but sometimes it simply cannot overcome emotion.

What’s missed is missed. We cannot refuse to look at the stars just because we missed the sun. Once the tears have dried, life must go on. That is life’s cruelty. As another line I love puts it: “The seasons do not change for the life or death of one person, even if he can command the winds and clouds, or hold up the sky with one hand.”

It is precisely because life is cruel that I deliberately sought a sense of detachment. Life and death were commonplace in that era, yet taking such things in stride is itself the deepest sorrow.

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