The Loneliness of the Empty Home

This is a record of an interview with Lin Miao-zhu, who sought deliverance at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. She now resides in the Western Dharma-Nature Land. This account reflects upon her life and the tragic fire at Wang Fuk Court, Tai Po, Hong Kong. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa-ru, on December 2, 2025.

Practitioner Su speaks:

"Lin Miao-zhu, you were a victim of the fire at Wang Fuk Court, 3821 Tai Po Road, Tai Po, Hong Kong. Can you describe how the fire started? You lost your life in that tragedy. You are now in the Western Dharma-Nature Land of the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. With the compassion of the Buddha, I invite you to recount the events of the disaster exactly as they happened. We also invite your family to come to the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre to communicate with you. I respectfully invite Lin Miao-zhu of the Western Dharma-Nature Land to speak."

Lin Miao-zhu speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am grateful to the Buddha for giving me this opportunity to be interviewed. I feel very calm now, and I am able to speak about my life with more clarity.

A Life of Unfulfilled Expectations

I was born in Hong Kong in 1972. After finishing my studies, I met my husband. We dated for a while and then made a lifelong commitment to each other. We pooled our savings and received financial support from both our families to buy a home—that apartment at Wang Fuk Court. At first, my life was very happy. A few years later, I became pregnant, but for reasons I still do not fully understand, my husband did not want me to keep the child. I was so confused at the time. I did not know what had gone wrong. The child was innocent, so why did we have to terminate the pregnancy? Still, I followed my husband's wishes and had the abortion. I have regretted that decision for all these years, but looking back now, it seems as if everything was destined to happen that way.

Years passed, and I was never able to conceive again. On one hand, my husband was very busy with work, and we spent little time together. On the other hand, he became quite cold toward me. I convinced myself that he was simply focused on his career, and I thought there was nothing wrong with that. Until one day, I noticed something strange: his personal belongings contained items belonging to another woman. It was heartbreaking, but I refused to believe he would do such a thing, so I pretended not to know. Eventually, after a heated argument, I confronted him and asked if there was someone else. He did not admit it directly, but after a massive fight, he left the house and never returned.

The Solitude of Waiting

I regretted confronting him. Perhaps I had misunderstood him. Perhaps if I had just endured it, he would not have left me. I also deeply regretted not having that child; if I had, I would not have been left alone to guard that empty house. At least I would have had a child for company, and perhaps my life would have held more hope and joy. After my husband left, I made a living by running a small business at the market. Since I was alone, my expenses were low, and I sold some food to get by. But I was never happy. I believed that my family was the true purpose of my life. Without my child and my husband, I did not know what the meaning of my existence was.

At the market, I would often see housewives or domestic helpers buying groceries, or helpers taking care of the elderly or children. They were living simple lives, yet I felt their lives had something more, while I stood there feeling like something was missing. Of course, customers would be polite and exchange pleasantries, but it was just superficial interaction. It was not the same as having a real family. So, I lived alone, guarding that house, still believing that perhaps one day my husband would return. Maybe he really did have someone else, but perhaps he would have a change of heart, abandon her, and come back to me. I felt I had to stay in that home, otherwise, I would be failing my husband and, even more so, the child I had aborted. And so, I slowly entered middle age.

The Night of the Fire

I do not know if it was due to long-term depression or an unhealthy diet, but I began to suffer from chronic illnesses. My mobility became restricted, and my reactions and movements grew increasingly sluggish. On the night of the fire, I was sleeping. I truly did not notice anything unusual until I heard some noises and smelled a thick, pungent odour in the air. I did not understand what was happening. My consciousness was not very clear, and I felt something was wrong. I thought I should get out of bed to check. I rose slowly and tried to turn on the light, but after several attempts, I realised the power was out. I walked through the darkness toward the door and saw a red glow at the edges of the frame. When I touched the doorknob, it was scorching hot. I was instantly jolted awake. Could this be a fire? I had to escape! But the knob was too hot to turn. I grabbed a piece of cloth to wrap around it and used both hands to force it open. A blast of hot air rushed in, and the heat wave terrified me, causing me to fall to the floor.

In an instant, the flames surged in like a tidal wave along the ceiling. Thick smoke and fire filled the entire room. I was stunned, staring out the door, but I could see nothing but smoke and a sea of fire. Looking up, the massive blaze continued to spread and rage. I sat on the floor, not knowing how to react, just staring blankly at the ceiling. I wondered why this was happening. Where were my husband and child? Why were they not here? Why did they leave me alone to face this infinite sea of fire? I do not know how long it burned. The smoke and flames grew thicker until I could no longer see. Suddenly, I felt something strike my head and face—I do not know if it was the ceiling collapsing or some object falling. I was in agony, such intense pain. I could not breathe, but I dared not look. I just clutched my head and face tightly, wishing my husband and child were by my side.

Deliverance and the Lotus Seat

A long time passed as I held my head and face. Suddenly, I felt a bright light. I did not know where it came from, but I did not pay it any mind; I just kept holding my head. I suspected my head had been burned or injured, and my whole body was likely scorched, but I was too afraid to look. Later, I heard a voice coming from above. At first, I could not understand what it was saying; I only heard it repeating a phrase. Gradually, I understood it was saying, "Namo Amituofo." I still did not understand what it meant, only vaguely knowing it was a Buddha called Namo Amituofo. This voice then told me to look around. The voice made me feel very safe, so I slowly let go of my hands and began to observe my surroundings.

It was a place I had never seen before, but it was vast, bright, and everything was shimmering. I seemed to be sitting on a circular platform. I did not know what it was at the time, but later I learned it was a lotus seat. I looked around and saw there was truly no fire, no thick smoke. There were other victims nearby, but they seemed to be huddled together. I understood their fear. I called out to them a few times, but they did not respond; they remained huddled together. I checked my body and found it was normal. I had feared my body had been crushed by the ceiling, but fortunately, my head, hands, and feet were all intact. Although I could not see my own face, at least my limbs were fine. That gave me great peace of mind.

A New Beginning

Since then, I have been sitting on the lotus seat, though I still constantly think of my family. Later, someone told me to chant the Buddha's name. I did not understand what that meant, but I learned it was to follow the voice that kept repeating, "Namo Amituofo, Namo Amituofo." I did not know why I had to chant, but as I kept chanting, my mood improved. Whenever I stopped, I would think of my family and feel sad, so whenever I felt down, I would just keep chanting, and my mood would lift. I heard that I was to be interviewed, and at first, I thought it must be someone with the same name, because I did not think I had anything worth saying. My story is not as dramatic as those of the others who have been interviewed. But since I was asked, I decided to share it. Now I know my husband will never come to see me. Perhaps I should try to embrace a new life. It feels like a good time to start. Since I no longer have a physical body, I will stay here and slowly think about my future days."

Namo Amituofo.