She Who Became the Sun (The Radiant Emperor, #1)

by Shelley Parker-Chan

All things, O priests, are on fire … And with what are they on fire? With the fire of passion, say I, with the fire of hatred, with the fire of infatuation; with birth, old age, death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief, and despair are they on fire. ADITTAPARIYAYA SUTTA; The Fire Sermon

It didn’t seem fair that while others earned their suffering for pleasure, she should earn hers for nothing more than wanting to live.

“Ah, Novice Zhu. A pious man would make a poor abbot in these troubled times of ours. Do you think Wuhuang Monastery has survived this long in the midst of Nanren rebellion and Mongol retaliation solely due to the smiling regard of Heaven? No, indeed! I see what needs to be done to keep us safe, and I do it regardless of what a monk should or shouldn’t do. Oh, I know I’ll suffer for it in my next lives. But when I ask myself if future pain is worth it for this life I have now, I always find that it is.”

“We’d win, even if we did it that way,” Ouyang said. In front of them the bridge’s pale stone arches seemed to float in the darkness, giving the illusion that it went on forever. Even a practically minded person like Ouyang could appreciate it as one of the greatest accomplishments of a native dynasty long ended. A slow crawl went up and down his spine. Perhaps his Nanren blood recognized the history of this place. He wondered if he had walked across it in a past life, or even built it with his own hands. It was tempting to think his past lives must have been better than this one, but he supposed that couldn’t be true; he must have done something in them to have earned this life and fate.

Why insist on chasing the shadow of something lost, when you could make something new and even greater?

The thought of seeing Ma’s spark crushed by Little Guo or Chen or anyone else was irrationally troubling. Zhu realized she wanted to keep that fierce empathy in the world. Not because she understood it, but because she didn’t, and for that reason it seemed precious. Something worth protecting.

Not-wanting is a desire too; it yields suffering just as much as wanting.