The Virtual King and the Reality of the Blade

Cheng Chih-hao, a young man who met a tragic end at the age of twenty-three after a violent incident in an internet cafe, sought deliverance from the suffering of the hells. Through the compassionate intervention of Practitioner Su at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre, he was granted the opportunity to share his story. This interview was recorded on February 10, 2022.

Cheng Chih-hao speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Cheng Chih-hao. In the roles I played in online games, I was always a king, leading armies to conquer territories and becoming the dominant force in the virtual world. This completely satisfied the psychological barriers I could not overcome in reality. In the real world, my eyes were completely vacant and unfocused. I actually began waving a knife around in an internet cafe, wounding several people, before finally plunging the blade into my own throat. In the game, I was accustomed to using ruthless tactics, so I struck my own vital point. I lost too much blood and was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital. I was only twenty-three years of age. Ultimately, I am grateful to Practitioner Su for giving me, and many other prison guards, the opportunity to be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. I hope this autobiography of mine can help some people wake up. I am grateful for the compassion of the Buddha and Practitioner Su."

A Life of Unfulfilled Ambition

"I once had grand ambitions and a life full of fighting spirit, but after repeated setbacks, my life took a sharp turn. I did not know that this turn would lead me to leave the human world so early. Now, because of the causal conditions of being interviewed by Practitioner Su of the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre, I am already on the path to being reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. Everything that has happened feels like a dream.

Life flickered before my eyes, scene after scene. To speak of these images is simple, yet they carry a weight of emotion and sorrow. Regardless, I cherish this opportunity to make this dream come true and go to the Buddha's land. I am grateful to King Yama and Practitioner Su for giving me this chance."

A Childhood of Emotional Distance

"I am Cheng Chih-hao. My father was American and my mother was Chinese. To ensure I would have American citizenship, my mother specifically returned to my father's small hometown to give birth. Because I was of mixed heritage, I was particularly well-liked as a child.

To give me a foundation in English, my mother stayed in the United States for three years before our whole family moved back to China. Although I was only three, I could already feel the changes in the magnetic field of my environment. There was an atmosphere of forced performance that made it difficult for me to breathe deeply. I could not describe this feeling, nor did I know how to express it, so I could only express it by crying.

My mother became annoyed and frustrated by my constant, inexplicable crying. She began to feel that having a child was troublesome and a burden, so she would often leave me aside. Only after I had cried for a long time would she come to check on me. Over time, I came to understand my mother. I learned when to cry so she would come to care for me, and when to cry so I would only receive her impatient scolding.

My mother and father were never actually married; in name, they were just boyfriend and girlfriend. When I was five, after a massive argument, I never saw my father again."

The Loneliness of the New Home

"After my father left, I never saw my mother shed a tear. She only changed in her behaviour; she became more focused on her appearance than before. Sometimes she would talk on the phone for hours, and I had to wait for her to hang up before I could eat.

Once, I had waited so long that I was starving. I tugged at the corner of her clothes and gestured that I was hungry. My mother immediately picked up a cushion and threw it at me, telling me to be quiet. I had no choice but to endure it. From that moment on, I wondered if my mother hated me.

After I started school, my mother only took me once before telling me to go by myself from then on. She gave me a small coin purse and told me to buy whatever I wanted to eat. At that time, I could not even do basic arithmetic, let alone buy things.

At noon, when everyone was eating their lunch boxes, I had to go to the school shop to buy food. The lunch boxes at the shop looked huge, and I could not finish them, but seeing my classmates eating them made me want one too. I took a lunch box to the counter and held out my purse, asking the auntie to help me. After she calculated the cost, she put the money back in my purse and told me to hurry up and eat.

Clutching the lunch box, I ran back to the classroom. Some classmates had already finished eating, and they crowded around to look, all curious. When the box was opened, there was a chicken leg, three side dishes, and a lot of white rice—the portion was so large I could not finish it. After eating only a third, my stomach felt bloated. Seeing every classmate finish their meal, I silently put away the leftovers in my drawer.

The next day at noon, I remembered the unfinished lunch box in my drawer and thought I could eat it. To my shock, when I opened it, there were white worms wriggling inside. I was terrified. I quickly threw the lunch box away and went to the shop to buy bread instead. From then on, I ate whatever I could find, as long as it filled my stomach."

The Search for Success

"After my biological father left, my mother began bringing different men home. Each 'uncle' would try to please me in different ways, though some were clearly forced in their expressions and actions. From that time on, I became a very sensitive child, clearly perceiving the attitudes and expressions others held toward me.

After my mother had several boyfriends, she suddenly told me one day, 'Xiao Hao, Mom is getting married. We are moving to a very big house.' I was stunned at first because I felt a resistance in my heart. I did not want to leave the familiar environment; I hated adapting to new places. My mother had never given me a sense of security, so staying in a place I knew was the only thing that made me feel safe. Now, she was taking me away from the place I considered safest. My heart felt instantly empty, unable to grasp anything. I was panicked, yet my face remained expressionless. Seeing that I did not object, my mother did not ask about my feelings.

After moving to the new house, my new father led my mother and me through the large home. There were so many doors that I was dazzled. After the tour, I only knew that my mother and my new father lived in the largest room, while I lived five doors away. The room was large and beautiful. When I entered my own room, it felt completely alien. I did not know which corner to hide in. I was in middle school then, feeling rebellious but afraid to show it. There was a great deal of repression in my heart.

In the new house, my mother cared for me even less, though I never lacked for meals. A housekeeper cooked for me and prepared my lunch for school. But after moving, my heart seemed to seal shut, and all my emotional reactions circled within my inner world.

Gradually becoming familiar with the life around the new house, I would spend my time after school at a bookstore, reading books about successful people. I hoped that one day I could follow their path to success. I had more expectations for my own life.

Perhaps because of this, I lived more actively than before. My mother did not notice the change, but my new father—whom I called Uncle Wang—called me over to talk and listen to my future plans. After I recited the principles from the books, Uncle Wang laughed happily and began to actively cultivate me, arranging for me to attend an elite school. The classmates there were all wealthy or of high social status, so naturally, I met many rich heirs and heiresses. Compared to them, I had only recently become wealthy, and my temperament was different. Often, when speaking with them, I felt inferior, as if I knew nothing. I did not see the traits of the successful people from my books in them, so I did not want to befriend them. This mindset made it impossible for me to integrate into school life or make good friends. I became a loner.

The school was very strict and required boarding, so I could only go to the bookstore to read and replenish my spiritual food when I went home on holidays. I had my own set of ideas, and they were very strong, so I did not want to adopt the opinions of others. From then on, my temperament began to change. I believed that deep down, I too could become a successful person in society, so I looked forward to the moment I could spread my wings. I fantasized about everyone respecting me."

The Virtual Trap

"The year I graduated from university, Uncle Wang arranged a position for me in his company, intending to cultivate me from the ground up. Every day at work, I was moving things, checking inventory, and watching the production line. I felt like a mere labourer; this work did not suit me at all. My heart was filled with injustice and dissatisfaction. I felt that Uncle Wang was deliberately making things difficult for me, so my attitude shifted from respect to hatred. Uncle Wang once called me to his office to talk, but I looked at him with such disgust that he eventually gave up trying to communicate with me.

I had read many books and thought I understood a great deal, so I wanted to strike out on my own. I looked for several jobs, but I had high demands because I believed I was a capable person who deserved a high salary and good treatment.

With such demands, no company would pay me any mind. After half a year of searching, I still had not found a job. I developed radical thoughts, believing that companies in the outside world simply did not know how to hire people.

Before I found a job, my mother gave me a regular allowance. I wandered the streets looking for work, and eventually, I decided to go to an internet cafe to search for jobs online. Not knowing where else to go, the internet cafe became the place I frequented most. There, I met some friends who gradually led me to play games, allowing me to feel the thrill of winning. We agreed on times to play together. For one, two, three months, I found a sense of success in the game. I stopped going home, and my days and nights were reversed.

At first, a force in my heart told me this was not good, but in the face of reality, I chose this way to escape. No one at home cared that I had become like this because, for too long, my ego had been too strong. I could not listen to anything they said, and eventually, they replaced their arguments with silence.

In the roles of online games, I was a king, leading soldiers to conquer and becoming the dominant character. This completely satisfied the psychological barriers I could not overcome in real life.

I do not know if it was because I was so immersed, but my spirit had merged with the character in the game. We had agreed in the game to attack another city to win a victory. I had finally earned points and bought weapons, intending to fight a beautiful battle.

In reality, my eyes were completely vacant. I actually began waving a knife around in the internet cafe, wounding several people, before finally plunging the blade into my own throat. In the game, I was accustomed to using ruthless tactics, so I struck my own vital point. I lost too much blood and was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital. I was twenty-three years old—a young life that became the most out-of-control character in the drama of life because my ambitions could not be satisfied.

Although I plunged the knife directly into my own throat, I did not feel any pain at all, because I had long since lost my soul to the game.

When my soul knelt before the Hall of King Yama, I did not admit to a single word he said. I did not feel I had done anything wrong. Later, I realized that I had been replaced by the characters in the game, by spirits and demons, which caused this body of mine to commit such karma. I had to suffer the retribution for what my physical body had done. I cycled through many hells, wailing in pain, until I heard the scriptures transmitted into the hells by Practitioner Su, which finally stirred my original, kind nature.

When Practitioner Su decided to interview the young victims of the internet, I knelt and begged for the Buddha's blessing to give me this opportunity. My sincere heart allowed me to change my status from a prisoner to a prison guard, so I could accept this interview.

My life story is a warning to the youth. Although the internet is convenient today and has opened up a global perspective, it has also caused many to become addicted, leading to many modern civilization diseases. The development of the internet age has its pros and cons; it all depends on how one uses it.

Finally, I am grateful to Practitioner Su for giving me and many other prison guards the opportunity to be reborn in the Western Pure Land of Ultimate Bliss. I hope this autobiography of mine can help some people wake up. I am grateful for the compassion of the Buddha and Practitioner Su."

Cheng Chih-hao