In a forgotten corner of the world, encircled by ancient mountains, there lay a small village known as Yulan. The villagers led simple lives, their hands worn from labor, and their hearts tender from the bonds they shared. Among them, there was a man named Chen, whose heart yearned for something beyond the horizon.
Chen often spoke of dreams that towered over the mountains, dreams of a life where he could bring prosperity not only to himself but to the whole village. His heart seemed noble, yet deep inside, a whisper urged him to seek recognition and adulation.
Word came to Yulan of a mystical monk residing atop the mountains, who had the power to manifest one’s deepest desires. Chen’s heart raced; this was the opportunity he had been waiting for.
With determination, Chen climbed the mountain, where the air grew thin, and the whispers of the forest told ancient tales. At the summit, beneath the shadow of an age-old cedar, the monk sat in meditation. He was an ethereal figure, with a golden aura that made the air around him shimmer.
Chen approached him and spoke of his dreams. He spoke passionately about helping his village and the poor with the wealth he wished for. But as he spoke, he felt the monk’s gaze pierce through him, reading the untold whispers of his heart.
The monk then spoke in a voice that rustled like the leaves, “Dear Chen, your words speak of selflessness, but your heart whispers of glory and recognition. Why seek wealth for yourself to help others? Why not wish for prosperity for all, without yourself as the vessel?”
Chen’s heart trembled as he realized the depth of his own desires. He had not seen how the tendrils of his ego had woven through his noble intentions.
The monk, perceiving Chen’s turmoil, spoke once more, “Would you like to see what true selflessness beholds?”
With a wave of the monk’s hand, Chen’s vision blurred, and they stood in a different Yulan, one that was flourishing. The fields were bountiful, children’s laughter filled the air, and the villagers were joyous.
Among them, there was a figure, a humble man whose presence was as gentle as a breeze. This man worked silently alongside others, shared his meals, and offered his hands for any labor. He did not lead; he simply was a part of all.
Chen saw that the villagers respected this humble man, but he sought neither praise nor acknowledgement. His heart was light, and his joy came from the happiness of others.
“This,” whispered the monk, “is true selflessness. It seeks nothing in return, not even recognition.”
Chen, with tears streaming down his face, looked at the monk and whispered, “I understand now.”
As swiftly as they had left, they returned to the mountaintop.
Chen, with newfound clarity, spoke with a humble voice, “I wish for the prosperity and happiness of my beloved Yulan, and the wisdom to serve with a selfless heart.”
The monk smiled warmly, and the winds howled in unison. As Chen blinked, he found himself at the foot of the mountain.
Years went by, and Yulan thrived. Chen worked side by side with his fellow villagers, his heart lighter than ever. He became like the gentle stream that nourishes the fields – ever-present, yet asking for no recognition.
One day, as an old cedar tree in Yulan blossomed for the first time in ages, Chen saw a figure bathed in golden light on a hilltop. The monk, who seemed both near and far, nodded with a smile that spoke a thousand words.
Chen smiled back, his heart at peace, knowing he had found a treasure far greater than gold – he had found the wealth of a truly selfless heart.
As Chen continued his days in Yulan, he saw the village not just with his eyes, but with his heart. The laughter of children was like music, the blooming fields painted his soul with colors, and the community’s bonds were the warmth that filled the nights.
People from neighboring villages visited Yulan to witness the change it had undergone. They asked what their secret was, and Chen would simply say, “A heart that gives without seeking, is a heart that reaps without sowing.”
In time, Chen became not just a man but a spirit of the village. His presence was a reminder to all of the boundless wealth a selfless heart can bring.
Many years later, as Chen’s time in this world came to an end, the villagers gathered around him. With a gentle smile, he whispered his final words, “Let the fields of your hearts always be fertile for kindness, and may your hands always be extended for others.”
As he breathed his last, the villagers felt an air of peace and gratitude envelop them. They vowed to keep the spirit of selflessness alive.
Generations passed, and the story of Chen and the magical monk turned into a legend, a tale to be told to the young and old. Yulan thrived not just in wealth but in the richness of their spirits.
The cedar tree under which Chen had often sat continued to blossom every year, and the villagers knew that it was his spirit, reminding them of the timeless wisdom that had been bestowed upon them.
In the gentle breeze that caressed the fields of Yulan, in the laughter of its children, and in the hearts of its people, Chen lived on – an eternal reminder of the transformative power of selflessness.
