and life is now entirely gone, leaving only an emptiness, an emptiness which I have exchanged for truth.
There are still many new roads to life and I must continue my quest as long as I live. But still I do not know how to take the first step toward those new roads. Sometimes the road to life appeared like a long white snake, wriggling and rushing toward me. I waited and waited but it disappeared into the darkness when it came close.
The spring nights grew longer; night after night, I sat and sat as if lost. One evening I recalled a funeral procession that I had seen on the street that morning. In front of the procession there were paper effigies of men and horses; in the rear walked the mourners uttering sing-song cries. How wise they were, what a simple and sensible way of treating death!
Then I had a vision of Tzu-chun's funeral: she bore, alone, the burden of emptiness as she went to her grave along the long gray road. But bitter as it was, this vision gave way to something even worse—the harsh judgment and chilly glances that followed her.
I wish there were such a thing as ghosts and spirits; I wish there were really such a thing as hell. Then, no matter how furiously the winds of hell roar, I shall go and look for Tzu-chun, and tell her of my sorrow and repentance and ask for her forgiveness. If this is impossible then let the vicious fires of hell enfold me and fiercely consume me and cleanse me of remorse and sorrow.
In the midst of the furious winds and vicious fires of hell, I would embrace Tzu-chun and beg for forgiveness; perhaps I would make her happy . . .
But speculations like these were even idler than thoughts of the new roads to life. The only thing I am sure of is that
