The sun beat down on the small village of Green Hollow, its fields cracked and dry under the weight of another scorching summer. Farmers toiled under the oppressive heat, their calloused hands weaving through crops and bundles of firewood. Among them was a young man, frail and pale, struggling to carry a stack of firewood nearly twice his size. His figure stood out, not because of his presence, but because of his weakness.
Lin Feng, barely eighteen, gritted his teeth as he stumbled forward. Each step felt like dragging a mountain, but he kept going, sweat streaming down his face and soaking his patched tunic.
"Lin Feng, you'll break your back at this rate," an older villager chuckled as he passed by, carrying twice the load with ease. "You ought to leave the heavy work to real men, boy."
Lin Feng forced a smile, though his lips trembled. "I'll manage, Uncle Wang."
The older man laughed and kept walking, but as soon as he was out of sight, Lin Feng's legs buckled. The bundle of firewood crashed to the ground, scattering in all directions. Lin Feng collapsed to his knees, panting and clutching his chest. His arms quivered as he tried to pick up the pieces, but his body refused to obey.
"Useless," he muttered to himself, his voice trembling. "Why am I so useless?"
In the distance, the faint cries of children laughing and playing echoed through the fields. Lin Feng glanced up, his vision blurred by sweat. He saw a group of boys running past, their laughter mocking in his ears.
"He's still at it," one of them said, pointing at Lin Feng. "Trying to act like a man, but he's just a sickly twig."
"Why bother? He'll never amount to anything," another sneered.
Lin Feng clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms until they nearly drew blood. But he said nothing. He didn't have the strength to fight back—not with words, not with his fists.
Later that evening, Lin Feng returned home. The small house was barely standing, its walls patched with mud and straw. Inside, the faint smell of herbal medicine filled the air. His mother, pale and frail, sat on a wooden stool, coughing into a handkerchief.
"Feng'er, you're back," she said, her voice weak but warm. "You've been out all day. Come, let me make you some tea."
Lin Feng rushed to her side, shaking his head. "No, Mother. You should rest. I'll make the tea."
She smiled, though her eyes were filled with sorrow. "You work so hard for us, my son. You shouldn't push yourself so much."
"I'll be fine," Lin Feng said, though his body screamed in protest. He couldn't let her see his weakness—not when she was already carrying so much pain.
As the night fell, Lin Feng sat outside, staring at the stars. He could hear his father coughing in the next room, his illness worsening with each passing day. The village healer had said they needed rare herbs to cure him, herbs that cost more than Lin Feng could earn in a lifetime.
A single tear slid down his cheek as he whispered to the heavens, "Why was I born this way? Why can't I be strong enough to protect them?"
But the stars offered no answer.
The next day, Lin Feng went to the market to sell the firewood he had managed to gather. The bustling streets of the small town were filled with merchants shouting their wares and villagers haggling over prices. Lin Feng's girlfriend, Mei Ling, appeared through the crowd, her delicate features lighting up as she approached him.
"Lin Feng," she called, her voice soft and sweet.
A smile broke across Lin Feng's face as he saw her. "Mei Ling! What are you doing here?"
"I heard you'd be here," she said, taking his hand. "You've been working so hard lately. Let me help you."
Her kindness felt like a balm to his weary soul. Mei Ling was the one bright spot in his life, the person who gave him hope when everything else felt hopeless.
But even as she smiled, a flicker of guilt crossed her face—a flicker that Lin Feng, blinded by love, didn't notice.
That evening, as Lin Feng walked Mei Ling back to her home, she held onto his arm, her voice soft and full of concern. "Lin Feng, why don't you leave the village? There's nothing here for you. You could go to the city, find opportunities, and become someone great."
Lin Feng shook his head. "I can't leave. My parents need me, and... I'm not strong enough for the city."
Mei Ling sighed but said nothing. As they reached her house, she turned to him with a sad smile. "You're stronger than you think, Lin Feng. Don't give up on your dreams."
Her words stayed with him long after she had gone inside, filling his heart with a fragile hope.
That night, Lin Feng sat by the window, staring out into the darkness. The faint glow of fireflies danced in the distance, their light flickering like the dreams he had buried deep within him.
He thought of Mei Ling's words, of his parents' suffering, of the laughter of the boys in the fields.
"I'll prove them wrong," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. "I'll find a way to become strong, no matter what it takes."
But as he clenched his fists, his weak body betrayed him once more, sending a sharp pain through his chest. He doubled over, gasping for air, tears streaming down his face.
"Why?" he cried, his voice breaking. "Why am I so weak?"
In the silence that followed, only the sound of his ragged breathing filled the room.
End of Chapter ....