Let the heart be lotus — born, yet untouched.
Let the mind be water — stirred, yet still.
…
Langtian sat upon the bed with legs crossed and spine straight. His eyes were gently shut, his breathing slow and steady, like the rise and fall of a tranquil tide. Each breath drawn deep into his lungs, each exhale soft as mist.
The moment he began chanting the Lotus Heart Sutra of the Tranquil Dao, a strange stillness settled over him. His thoughts quieted. His heartbeat slowed. His mind grew lighter, clearer, and vast.
He imagined himself as a lotus in bloom.
Rooted in mud, surrounded by the filth of the world, yet the lotus remained untainted—a flower of purity rising above corruption, untouched by the darkness that birthed it.
'Even if the world is filled with blood and wickedness,' he thought, 'the lotus remains unsullied. I too… must be like that.'
And so, he meditated.
His thoughts faded. His awareness deepened.
Time lost all meaning.
