Death and Rebirth

The hospital room was pale white, the acrid smell of disinfectant lingering at the tip of his nose. Outside the room, hurried footsteps and deliberately hushed voices drifted in.

The instruments ticked softly, and no one knew that the young man lying unconscious on the bed had been enduring unspeakable pain all along.

A vegetative state, also known as a persistent vegetative state, irreversible coma. In simple terms, the body lived and could react, but could not wake up, seemingly without consciousness. But who would have thought that inside this young man's body was trapped a fully awake soul?

Over so many years, the young man had nearly lost track of who he really was. The awake soul was called Yan Xiao, but the body did not bear that name, and yet there was no rejection between body and soul—it also carried the memories of this body itself.

In the third-person playback of memory, the unconscious young man's appearance was identical to Yan Xiao's own. But he remembered clearly that he should have died.

He didn't know why he had come to this body. The world experienced in this body's memories had nothing to do with his own—they were two completely unfamiliar worlds.

Trapped in this immobile body, conscious yet unable to wake, able to perceive everything outside yet unable to respond. He had never understood what the suffering of being alive truly meant among the eight sufferings of life, but now he understood—some people lived, yet it was more painful than death.

Warm sunlight spilled through the glass onto the bed. Another bright spring day. Suddenly, a flash of light streaked across the sky, charging straight into the empty hospital room.

"Is... it... you..."

The blaze of fire rushed into the room but caused no damage. In an instant, space twisted, and a figure draped in a black robe appeared inside. He rasped something to the young man on the bed, and the previously unconscious young man actually opened his eyes.

"Are you human or ghost..."

The young man on the bed tried to speak but couldn't get the words out. Sunlight shone down, yet the black-robed man cast no shadow at all. A gentle breeze from the fan passed straight through him, as if he didn't exist, except that he could be clearly seen.

The black-robed man lowered his head to look at the young man. In that instant, the entire world seemed to tremble slightly with his movement. He became the center of the universe, possessing an indescribable allure.

As the black-robed man lowered his head, an unbearable pressure bore down on the young man. His vision blurred completely. His eyes ached fiercely, and he vaguely sensed a flame mark on the black-robed man's forehead.

This wasn't intentional on the black-robed man's part. The difference in their life essences was too vast—like a mortal gazing at the starry sky, feeling their own insignificance before the infinite cosmos. If not for some special connection between them, the young man wouldn't even have been qualified to 'see'.

In the depths of his being, the young man suddenly felt a resonance. They were very 'similar'—like his soul and the unconscious young man's body on the bed.

"This place... is unsuitable..."

Weariness filled the black-robed man's eyes. His time seemed short. As he spoke, the wind and clouds shifted violently. The entire world inexplicably brightened, erupting in a dazzling light.

Communications across the globe fell into chaos. Countless people panicked, unable to understand the cause of this phenomenon.

"I'll send you... away..."

The black-robed man spoke another sentence, still struggling to form the words. A sudden understanding dawned in the young man's heart—everything seemed clear, yet nothing was understood.

A blaze of fire swept across heaven and earth, rapidly converging from the hospital room as its center. The young man's body was quickly wrapped in flames, slowly turning transparent.

The black-robed man flicked a finger, touching the young man's brow. Countless streams of information poured into his soul. A flame-shaped light pattern flew from the black-robed man's forehead, plunging straight into the young man's brow, deeply etched into his soul.

The young man's consciousness grew chaotic again. He felt as if he had arrived at the end of the world, standing at the beginning of the River of Time. One moment the sky was full of stars, the next the heavens were barren and desolate. He merged with the void, becoming one with light and dust.

He seemed to grasp many great principles of the Dao, yet could articulate nothing. He could perceive that his body was like the sky and the universe, and those tiny points were like flames.

These flames—some were strong, some weak. Each carried different laws and abilities, encompassing all things, leaving nothing out.

"This is... damn..."

He couldn't even finish his last complete sentence before he vanished without a trace in the brilliant radiance.

The black-robed man watched this scene quietly, his gaze lingering on the world with reluctance. "I've seen it for you. This world is truly beautiful, worthy of attachment! The seed of the Empyrean Flame has been passed down. I hope he too can stand at the peak of the myriad realms, just like you."

As his words fell, the black-robed man emitted a clear, bright light. Flames rose from beneath his body, and then he shattered entirely, turning into scattered sparks that filled the world, dissipating without a trace.

The space around him felt somewhat cramped. Yan Xiao suddenly sensed a brightness before his eyes. He had broken free from the space of the soul body, feeling a heavy weight, like shackles pressing down. This tangible sensation made his long-unfree soul cheer and leap with joy inside.

He saw blurry light before him. His limbs seemed extremely weak. A wave of pain spread through him, and he couldn't help but cry out, but what came out was a wailing sob. A buzzing sound filled his ears, brimming with joy.

He didn't know how long passed before he finally understood. He had been reborn—or rather, newly born—with his memories intact, experiencing the 'suffering of being alive' once more. But this time, it didn't seem quite so painful.

An infant's brain couldn't handle too many thoughts. Before long, he grew tired and fell asleep. After another unknown stretch of time, he instinctively fed, his tiny stomach quickly full. The unceasing 'suffering of being alive' eased somewhat in this sweetness.

Several days passed. His awareness gradually sharpened. Though his eyes couldn't open yet, his keen five senses let him discern more.

"Son, your dad's here. Look what I brought you. Wake up, wake up, will you..."

The rattle sounded by his ear. He had been woken up again. Some guy with a hint of cigarette smoke on him had come to tease him once more.

After these days of getting to know him, he could barely accept this unqualified father—if only this guy would be a little less playful and let him get some proper rest.