For one's own life, suffering from big or small twists and miseries, one won't be sad for too long. For others' lives, we often look at them with a cold eye. No one blames you for being indifferent, nor do you feel guilty. Life is originally a mix of bitterness and sweetness, and most of us can bravely accept it. We live optimistically because we don't want to, so we have no worries. When it comes to others, there's even less need for concern and unease. A cold eye is enough.
When I saw my relative pass away, her eyes wide open, pupils dilated, breathing out but not in, I wasn't afraid, nor did I feel much sorrow. That day, I happened to go to the hospital to visit her. As soon as I entered the ward, I saw several doctors surrounding her doing emergency treatment. The nurse squeezed and expanded the airbag, inserting the tube into her lungs. Her stomach was swollen, her eyes already staring blankly, unable to form an image. I called her twice, with no response. The doctor said they had been rescuing her for half an hour... Her children were outside, unable to return immediately. Thinking that she would die without her son present, my mother, seeing her in such sadness, called her by the name she used to call when she was young, sobbing quietly. The hospital hoped she would die at home, so they continued artificial respiration until they moved her back home. With insufficient manpower, I had no choice but to help, moving the bed, preparing the place, waiting for the car to help lower her down, carrying her to the ground. Her eyes never closed, as if she had something left unsaid. My uncle-in-law said that this morning she ate two bowls of porridge, but unexpectedly struggled to sit up, then suddenly experienced chest pain. I didn't expect her life to end like this. I took a piece of cloth to cover her, everything prepared. Clean dust entered my nose, and my snot couldn't stop flowing. Her husband was even calmer than us, showing no panic, continuously making phone calls. Few uncles and brothers from the neighborhood came to console and help. After that, I didn't participate further. It was said that after her children returned and saw her, they managed to close her eyes and cover her properly. From then on, she rested in peace. I recalled events from her lifetime. My mom told me that when I was born, I relied on her care, serving my mom tirelessly. My mom asked me to remember Auntie's kindness and repay her when I grow up. After returning to work, I only visited her once a year, offering little filial piety. Even during the most sorrowful moment, I only looked at her with a cold eye.
When I see a student in pain, neither laughing nor crying, with an ugly expression, cold limbs, needing emergency care, I don't feel panic, nor sympathy. All I can do is send her to the hospital promptly, performing some first aid measures by rubbing her hands, giving her hot water to drink, helping her avoid fainting. After sending her to the hospital, since other students are around, and there's nothing more I can do, I can leave without staying by her side like a family member would. Sometimes, even with mild dizziness or discomfort, I still send her to the hospital for examination because delaying could lead to severe conditions. Her body is abnormally weak, unable to withstand minor colds which might develop into serious illnesses. Several times I've sent her for treatment, especially once when her homeroom teacher wasn't available, so I had to take her. The moment she got into the car, her eyes were red, silent. I know how hard it must have been for her to endure until today; she has never complained or revealed any hardship to us. But this time, she was deeply hurt. I know her homeroom teacher's words seemed impatient. She understands well, frequently troubling teachers isn't good, it takes hours each time, and classes can't be attended. Perhaps that's why she transferred here from Ji Zhong. While receiving intravenous therapy, I intentionally asked her whether her family could bear the frequent expenses. She didn't answer, instead asking me how to study classical Chinese. Her eyes revealed a touch of resilience and confusion, her pale face showing maturity and introversion beyond her years. Some things are better understood without too many questions. I just look at her with a cold eye.
These are all ordinary matters, and I only look at them with a cold eye. Perhaps it's indifference, feeling no loss, or perhaps calmness, unnecessary for great sorrow, or maybe they don't touch the heart deeply, sudden misfortune or departure causing little harm to the soul. I only use one eye, looking coldly.