After ReadingThe night lay heavy and thick, without a trace of starlight. An old man reclined in his armchair, his snow-white hair like a brilliant lamp burning against the darkness. He struggled for breath, his body suffused with an indescribable pain. Death was drawing near, yet he felt no fear, for he could sense something burning hot beside him—that something was love.
This old man was Jean Valjean, a “villain” who did good, a convict whose body housed a soul overflowing with compassion. Kind and generous, willing to destroy himself rather than harm his enemy, he saved those who had struck him down. Kneeling at the lofty altar of virtue, he transcended the mundane world and drew close to the angels.
More precisely, he was about to become an angel. His blood was slowly congealing within him, his soul no longer bound by the body, trembling gently. The angel of suffering was about to fly free from its mortal shell.
Jean Valjean died and was transformed into an angel bearing holiness, beauty, and goodness. Though he had lingered in this sullied world for more than seventy years, his feathers remained white as snow—suffering had not stained this angel with a single mark of impurity. Between the human world and heaven, he had become radiant, magnificent.
This soul forged in a world of misery represented no particular class, no party, no faction of people. Rather, in the name of natural justice and human conscience, he stood against everything in the world that twists and mutilates human existence, no matter how sacred or lawful it might appear. And because of this conscience, he attained true happiness in this mortal world. Looking back on his life, though filled with endless disappointments and endless trials, his tireless struggle and his unwavering righteousness allowed him to truly live.
Suffering becomes fragile before a strong soul; evil becomes void before a good character; darkness becomes weak before a sacred halo. This immortal soul shone in the dim prison, shone amid the chaos of the barricades, shone in the deep sewers, shone in the heart of every good person. It was he who, through persistence, courage, and kindness, lifted happiness into an earthly paradise, while bearing suffering from beginning to end without a single complaint. Because of a loaf of bread, he lost all his youth. Facing destitution and the cold indifference of the world, he maintained his light, his goodness, and his tolerance under all circumstances—he was a man of noble sentiment. It was precisely this compassionate heart that transformed Javert, the cold and obstinate inspector who had relentlessly pursued him.
O people of this miserable world! Only he could bear the pain that God cast down upon humanity. Only he could give the happiness within pain to others. Between faith and conscience, between suffering and happiness, courage and love made him an angel of suffering.
He lived, though fate was strangely harsh and full of tribulation.
He rests in peace, for his eyes closed only when he lost his angel.
Birth and death—such is the natural law of human life.
Day turning to night—this too follows the same principle.
