The End Is Also the Beginning

The blurry vision gradually cleared, revealing the warm sunlight streaming through the hospital room window.

He wanted to rip off the oxygen mask and the uncomfortable tubes, but his body was too weak to lift his arms. His gaze slowly focused, and he saw his room filled with family. His parents, hunched over with white hair, were weeping, their lips trembling as they looked at him. His younger sister was squatting by the bed, desperately trying to wipe away tears that wouldn't stop, just like when she fell and cried as a child, inconsolable no matter how much he tried to comfort her.

The curves on the monitor were becoming weaker and weaker. Happy childhood memories flashed by like a slideshow. Was he… leaving?

In his daze, he wanted to go home, back to that poor, dilapidated home filled with warm memories, but his throat wouldn't make a sound.

His breathing grew more ragged, his lungs like a broken bellows. With a surge of unknown strength, he weakly raised his hand to caress the little girl's face, trying to smile.

"No… sob…"

The tears on his palm were warm. The girl still cried so easily.

The doctor turned and whispered four words to the elderly couple, and they could no longer control their tears.

His temples were frosted, his white-haired parents had nowhere to express their sorrow. As a child, he couldn't repay their kindness in raising him. Scenes of his childhood flooded his mind, making him feel even more ashamed of his failure to care for his parents.

His body, long ravaged by a terminal illness, suddenly gained strength, and his face felt hot.

His family in the room were all crying. He had also heard what the doctor said: a final surge before death.

People have joys and sorrows, partings and reunions, yet he still couldn't believe he would soon be gone. Fear, unwillingness, reluctance, lingering attachment, regret, a love so profound it was difficult to let go – all these feelings washed over his heart. Fine, let it go, let everything go. His body felt light, no longer tired. He recalled his life, busy and exhausted day and night, the pressure of life suffocating him. If there was an afterlife, he wished not to be human again.

"Child… don't worry about us… go in peace…"

His father's trembling lips cried out. The words seemed to drain him of all his spirit, making him look even more desolate.

A trickle of warmth slid down his eye. All his strength began to drain away. He wanted to say something, but his throat was dry and hoarse, and the words wouldn't come out. If he didn't speak now, he never would.

"I'm… sorry…"

He exhaled his last breath, his hand weakly slipping from his little sister's face.

Finally, freedom…

The sky was blue, the wind light, the trees green, the flowers vibrant, and the birds sang sweetly.

The monitor's line turned straight, emitting a warning sound. His once rebellious younger sister lunged onto the hospital bed, and no one could pull her away. His family supported his parents, who were weak and unsteady. Doctors and nurses stepped forward. His sister cried desperately, trying to stop them from removing the IV and the monitor. The nurse sighed, reached out, and removed the oxygen mask, pulling up the white sheet…

Autumn leaves drifted down, returning to silence. A moment's reflection, a fleeting cloud.

Death is an end, but also a new beginning. Flowers bloom and fall, cycling endlessly. All that the myriad beings can do is let go of their attachments and go with the flow.

Time flew by, twenty years passed.

The Hundred Thousand Mountains.

Misty streams, painting landscapes.

The clouds are verdant, threatening rain; the water is placid, giving birth to mist.

Suddenly, the sky clears, like mountains rolling up their curtains; the clouds still linger, like rocks donning their cloaks.

Green mountains, layered peaks, obscure the sun, hiding the sky. They are verdant and steep, shrouded in clouds and mist. Streams meander, waterfalls splash, apes cry, fish leap, and white egrets soar into the blue sky, like a picturesque, ethereal realm.

By the stream, a four-meter-long White Snake slithered through the grass. It was as white as jade, its scales smooth and fine, its body supple and sinuous, moving with grace.

Its forked tongue flickered, catching the faint scent of food in the air. It wound around a large rock, raised its head, and used its heat-sensing organs to search. Suddenly, it accelerated, burrowing into the thick grass and startling birds. Its jaws opened wide, swallowing five goose-egg-sized bird eggs. Then, it left the nest without looking back, continuing its search for food.

Survival in the mountains was paramount: hunting, eating, maintaining bodily functions.

After a long while, the White Snake, its hunger sated, coiled its body and burrowed into a pile of rocks to digest its meal. Its snake eyes stared blankly at the sky outside the cave. In reality, snake eyes couldn't see very far; they were almost nearsighted. They also lacked external ears. It captured scents with its tongue and used heat-sensing organs to detect temperature and locate prey. Its hearing relied on vibrations felt through its underside.

It stared at the sky blankly simply out of habit from its previous life. Perhaps it was a dying wish not to be human again that led to its reincarnation as a snake.

The discomfort of its birth gradually faded with time. Twenty years of spring and autumn had worn away its humanity. Its past-life memories were slowly being suppressed by its animal instincts. Only when it occasionally zoned out did it recall the sorrowful faces of its family by the hospital bed. When it had nothing else to do, its daily task was to try its best to recall its past life, fearing that one day it would forget everything and be left with only survival instincts, its blood no longer hot, becoming a cold-blooded creature.

The first thing it deliberately forgot was the name that accompanied it throughout its previous life. In this life as a snake, it no longer needed an old identity.

It wasn't that it intentionally wanted to forget its past life and abandon its humanity. After twenty years of eating raw meat and blood, constantly fighting natural enemies for survival, how could it have the mood for sentimentality? The picturesque, ethereal realm was merely an outward appearance; the real forest was cruel.

The White Snake summarized four survival rules.

First, wait for opportunities with sufficient patience.

Second, attack the weak and avoid the strong.

Third, regardless of the enemy's strength, attack with all its might, cruelly and bloodthirstily.

Fourth, when facing danger, flee with all its might.

Thanks to these survival rules, it had struggled to survive from hatching to its current four-meter length. Various natural enemies were always lurking, including the goshawk with a two-meter wingspan that always circled overhead. It still remembered an instance where it was careless and almost torn apart by the hawk's talons, as well as the wildcats roaming nearby, and the most fearless animal of all, the honey badger.

Countless struggles and battles with natural enemies had made the White Snake more cold-blooded and ferocious. Even when covered in wounds and bleeding profusely, it would still fight desperately, seizing every opportunity to pierce the enemy's skin with its two sharp fangs and inject venom.

Its body was well-proportioned, and its venom was not strong. It wasn't like venomous snakes with triangular heads and slender necks. More often, it relied on constriction to kill its prey; the venom was merely an auxiliary.

The mountain weather changed like a child's mood, turning from clear skies to dark clouds and lightning in an instant.

Thunder and lightning raged, terrifying all beasts. After the lightning passed, raindrops the size of beans began to fall, and in an instant, it was pouring rain. The White Snake moved further into its shelter to avoid getting wet. Rain would lower its body temperature. Snakes, being cold-blooded, couldn't maintain a constant body temperature like mammals. After the rain stopped and the sun came out, it would need to bask in the sun to raise its body temperature and maintain its agility.

It gazed at the rain curtain outside the cave, coiled into a ball, motionless.

The White Snake's nearsighted eyes and poor hearing had just missed an incredible sight that other animals clearly witnessed. The ink-black clouds swirled and refused to disperse. Lightning struck a certain mountain peak with all its might. A tiger with black and yellow stripes and piercing eyes stood on the peak, roaring amidst the lightning. The tiger's roar was filled with anger and unwillingness. No matter how severe its injuries, it remained proud and refused to bow its head. A lightning bolt as thick as a water bucket struck down. Its wounds were scorched black and bleeding profusely. It collapsed and could no longer stand, until it was completely still.

That stubborn, unyielding figure was deeply imprinted in the eyes of the other animals. The ignorant beasts and birds didn't understand why the tiger was struck by lightning. At the same time, they developed a fear of the sky above. This was normal. Wild animals had an instinct to avoid danger and seek good fortune. Instinct told them to stay away from danger.

Only a few animals' pupils gazed towards the majestic mountain peak in the vast, white rain. Roars echoed one after anoth