Chapter 4: Memories of a Past Life
Night fell over the Shen family's grounds, casting long, shadowed shapes across the quiet courtyards and empty training halls. Alone in his dimly lit room, Shen Ming sat pondering thoughts that weighed heavy on his heart. His recent experiences in the mountains, the contempt of his family, and sheer frustration at being able to use only four veins had left him hollow and befuddled. Tonight, sitting cross-legged in meditation, a strange feeling arose within him—not knowing what it was, but feeling an inward pull, a yearning.
The soft breeze slipped through the opened window, caressing his skin. He closed his eyes and stopped concentrating inward, letting his mind go deeper and deeper into a trance. Going further into this stillness, the surroundings faded into a blur; more deeply, something else came to the front—a memory.
In another world, in another life.
He felt himself standing on a busy street, wearing a dark blue uniform, and attached to his chest, a badge. Hurried footsteps echoed through him as he took in the distant hum of car engines, along with the lights of the city: he knew this place, felt it in his bones.
Flashes of memories assailed him like the rapid flicker of a broken projector: chasing down criminals through crowded alleyways, sharing quiet moments of laughter with other officers, comforting victims with a gentle smile and kind words. But one particular memory dominated all these others, scorching through his mind with an intensity that made him hold his breath in awe.
With the gun in hand, a glint in his eye, he threatened Shen Ming. Ming weighed his options, thinking of everything that could happen. He knew it was a risk, but there was no hesitation. Instinctively, he plunged forward, putting himself between the girl and this man.
His last moments were tinged with the bitter pride of knowing that he had finally done the right thing, even if it meant that this was the last dawn he would witness.
And so, here he lay, in another world and another life.
The memory passed, but the sentiments continued to linger inside his chest as if evoked by the distant thunder of an echoing storm. Shen Ming opened his eyes and stared blankly into the dark interior of his room. His heart wept with a combination of what he had lost and what he accepted. He remembered everything now; his past life, his death, and the actual root of who he used to be. A cop, a protector, willing to give up everything for the sake of others.
He had lived this world as Shen Ming, that disappointment child whom his family ignored and everyone laughed at. Yet, even here, he did find, that his soul had not changed. Still that man would fight for his justice and still that one who protects all whom he cared for, even if they had never seen his worth.
This newfound clarity filled him with a fierce, almost reckless resolve.
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The next morning, Shen Ming made his decision. He would leave the Shen family.
He walked in silence over the courtyard while the rising sun of the morning caught up with the vast estate of the clan. For the very first time in his life, he felt nothing about the place that was once his home. He saw just walls that were confining him, eyes at which people looked down, and all the moments of rejection he had ever known.
He thought of his parents-Shen Fan and Meng Liu'er-had barely looked at him, placing all their hopes and means into his twin brother Shen Jian, the more gifted twin. He thought of the clan elders who had condemned him as a "waste," a flaw in the blood of the Shens. And he thought of Shen Jian himself, the formerly adored twin who had spoken to him with only disdain, delighting in every chance to tell him how inferior he was to his favorite brother.
They did not deserve his loyalty. They did not deserve the heart he carried from his previous life, the heart which had once sacrificed everything for others.
A soft rustling broke his thoughts. He turned and saw it was a girl servant, one who always had been kind to him despite that low standing in the family. She was looking at him with a serious look, with sadness and understanding that somehow made him feel she already knew something about what he was planning to do.
"Master Shen Ming," she said softly, bowing her head. "Are you… are you leaving?"
He nodded, serene yet resolute. "I am."
Her eyes fell to the earth, her fingers working nervously. "Will you… be fine out there? The world outside the clan walls is hard, especially for someone without—" She seemed to snatch the words back inside her mouth, pausing as if she had said too much.
"No talent?" she concluded for him, a faint smile pulling at his lips. "Perhaps. But I'm no stranger to hardship. He reached into his robe and handed her a small jade pendant-a token of thanks for her kindness. Take this. It's a small gift, but I hope it brings you luck."
Water welled up in the girl's face as she took the pendant and bowed so low she almost touched the ground. "Thanks, Master Shen Ming. I… I'll pray for your safety."
Shen Ming nodded once again and moved off toward the gates of the Shen family estate. He had barely reached the entrance when he saw two guards standing at guard who opened their eyes in surprise as they recognized him.
"Master Shen Ming," one of them stuttered, looking fearfully at his friend. "Where. where are you going?"
"Out." Shen Ming said straightly, with an edge that didn't allow for debate.
The guards glanced hesitantly at each other, clearly unsure whether to stop him or let him pass. But they stepped aside finally, averting their gaze from his eyes as he walked through the gates out onto the winding path that led away from the Shen family's territory.
The farther he went from the estate, the more free he felt and the more cast down, mingling uncertainty and freedom. He had put behind everything: the family name, security provided by the clan, and the expectations waiting for him since birth. He was going into unknown waters, with just his memories of the previous life and the four spiritual veins that ratified his present life.
The world outside was immense and full of wonders and dangers he could hardly envision. He knew the road would not be easy; he knew he would face the toughest hardships that take him to the edge and beyond. But he was ready for that. He would make his own way, one step at a time, no matter what obstacles lay ahead.
His suppressed memories about his previous life stayed with him like a compass.
Again, he would find that purpose in this world. He would transcend the limits of his talent, surpass what they considered inadequate and what those who had humiliated him expected from him, and create a destiny really his own.
He looked out over the distant mountains. A glint had formed in his eyes, one of resolve. This was Shen Ming, reborn. Finally, after all of these years he'd been called rubbish by those who wanted to know the worth of him and all of his kind, he would give them a show to remember.
For the first time in either life, he felt free.
Shen Ming had been walking for days, his path meandering through forests so dense the sun couldn't penetrate, hills so sharp they nearly ripped him in two. He hadn't known his circumstances were that bad. No money, barely enough resources to get by on, and all he'd had within the safety of clan walls was a bad reputation; survival wasn't likely. He then continued, finding his purpose in forging a new path beyond the boundaries that his family had established for him.
One evening, the sun was submerged below the horizon, casting only a dim orange glow across the bristling ruggedness of the landscape, when Shen Ming spotted a small, fragile figure slumped by the side of a dirt road. The figure was a frail, hunched old man, dressed in tattered robes, his skin weathered and thin, as if he really were one with the dust of the road.
At first, Shen Ming wanted to walk past, but something pulled at his heart-that soft but insistent voice reminding him of the sense of duty he once knew, that sense of justice which he upheld once. With a sigh, he crouched beside the old man and looked up at him.
The man's eyelids fluttered open, murky and listless, and the feeble light of life still clung to him. He struggled to focus on Shen Ming, a faint, grateful smile touching his cracked lips.
"Boy…. old, weathered skin," the old man croaked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you have …a place where I might rest…just for a while?"
Shen Ming glanced around, and there was little sign of shelter, except a sparse grove of trees just to his left side. He took the man in his arms and lifted him, holding his weight as he led him over to the trees where he helped him sit comfortably against the largest trunk. The old man breathed laboriously, and Shen Ming could feel the weakening pulse as each beat seemed fainter than the last.
"A little kindness… it goes a long way…", said the old man softly, "Thank you…".
Shen Ming shrugged, unable to speak. In the silence, he felt something depart from the old man. He hesitated over whether to do anything for the old man's pain. Then, with no warning at all, the old man thrust a rotting hand into his robe and brought out a little flower. Its petals reflected a deep, shimmering violet in the dim light.
"This…" The old man's hand shook as he held out the flower to Shen Ming. "This flower… it's called the 'Primal Flower.' It's rare… holds a special power. I… have no use for it now, but perhaps… it will help you."
Shen Ming took the flower, his fingers closing around the man's chilled hand. He examined it, finding intricacy in the pattern of petals that seemed to spiral inward on themselves toward a small golden core. It emitted a faint warmth, like nothing he had ever felt.
The old man coughed, his voice dwindling. "Listen to me, young man… remember this… be kind. To yourself… and to others. The world… it may be cruel, but… if you find it necessary, choose kindness."
It was with these words that Shen Ming's heart moved. So simple, yet so full of meaning that it echoed within him something mysterious, far down. He thought of the life he used to live as a policeman, of all the many moments when he went out of his way and showed kindness to others, unnoticed, even when it would in fact peril his own safety. And in this life, he felt so alone, discarded, but here, in this simplest act of sheltering a dying stranger, he is reminded of strength in compassion.
The old man's grip on his hand relaxed, his gaze drifting far away. And with a final gasp, he whispered, "Even in the darkest moments… kindness is… light…"
And with that said, he passed away.
Shen Ming remained kneeling beside him, the old man's words echoing within his mind. He could feel the warmth, like he hadn't for a long time. The thing about warmth, though, is that it reminds him of himself-the real self, a thing about his past that he'd forgotten to hold onto all these years. And the old man's last words felt like a message from his former life, reminding him to keep the core of who he is in an unkind world that aims to strip away everything he owns.
He looked down at the Heart.