Life from Death

Pain. That would be the best word to describe Shao Ling's life- at least, his life for the last few years, since the diagnosis. People say heartbreak is the worst pain you can feel, or maybe the loss of a loved one. Shao Ling would say its the pain of dying- not death, he'd been eagerly awaiting death for quite a while. Ever since he had been diagnosed with a terminal blood disease, Shao Ling had been suffering a slow, agonizing death.

It wasn't supposed to be this way, Shao Ling thought as he lay alone in the dark on a narrow hospital cot. He was hooked up to so many machines that he often felt like he was half a machine himself- if machines were subject to the pain of the flesh.

Pain was something Shao Ling had been accustomed to long before his diagnosis. As a martial artist, it was natural that his body would be subjected to extreme pain, as training the body is like forging a sword: both require intense tempering to become strong. Shao Ling spent many years forging his body into the ideal temple for martial arts. Brutal physical training, spirited sparring matches, rigorous studying of martial arts techniques and reflective meditation all served to pave the path to Shao Ling's ultimate goal: becoming the world's number-one martial artist.

A grimace twisted Shao Ling's face, as thinking of his doomed goal left an ashen taste in his mouth. Shao Ling had done a lot of grimacing since the diagnosis made by the doctor he saw after collapsing during a preliminary match in the amateur national championship. Some grimaces were caused by grief, but many more were from pain. As for the current Shao Ling, he rarely grimaced from pain; it was such a common part of his life that his face no longer betrayed it.

Shao Ling's cot was separated from the rest in his ward by a dull beige curtain. The drone of the AC unit and the sporadic beeps of machinery were the second-loudest noises in the room, the loudest being the sound of Shao Ling's own respirator. It was novel at first- Shao Ling felt like a certain sci-fi villain. It quickly grew irritating, then maddening, and finally normal.

Shao Ling had the luck to be placed next to the window, so even with lights-out called, he could gaze out into the night when the release of sleep evaded him.

There was a city below, shining with the twinkling stars of modern society. In contrast, not a single star could be seen in the sky. Humans veiled the night sky with their own achievements; even as they brought forth unceasing illumination on earth, the light of the heavens was obscured by smog. With his body poisoned, Shao Ling's wrinkled, sagging skin and hairless head completely concealed the fact that he was still a young adult. He could feel a strange sense of kinship with the starless sky, one born of shared suffering, although he knew the stars still burned on callously, regardless of the state of the earth.

Oh, that's right, that comet is passing by tonight. The one that hasn't been seen for thousands of years. I'm lucky to have made it this far; now I can die happy. Oh, wait, no one in this city will be able to see it. It's too bad that this hospital isn't out in the country, maybe then my spirit could rest in peace. Shao Ling's thoughts flowed through his mind like a muddy stream. A nurse had mentioned the comet earlier today, not to Shao Ling, but to another patient who still had interest in that sort of thing.

If you think about it, I'm basically one of the luckiest people in thousands of years, to be alive at such a time, Shao Ling thought sardonically. It almost made him want to laugh, if laughter didn't cause him immense pain.

A thin smile crept across his face nonetheless, which felt like a razorblade slashing his cheeks. He couldn't help letting out a single chuckle, which felt like molten lead being poured down his throat. His heart felt like it was being stepped on by an ox.

It's really not funny, Shao Ling thought, as he let out a second torturous chuckle.

Well, I guess it's kind of funny, he conceded to himself as he stared into the dark abyss that was the ceiling of the hospital ward.

Pretty funny.

As the red-stained fingers of dawn pulled back the curtain of night, the rising sun shone through the window to greet Shao Ling's sightless eyes still staring up at the ceiling.