Chapter 2: Bedtime Story - A Story I Never Forget

In the 1950s and 1960s, it was rare for residential homes to be connected to the electricity grid by utility company. My village house, along with the neighbouring homes - despite being just 2Km from the town centre - had no access to electricity. Power was limited to shop-houses in the town, a few government quarters nearby and some institutional buildings.

At night, we relied on kerosene lanterns, kerosene lamps and candles for lighting.

A typical kerosene lantern and a typical kerosene lamp.

On regular weekdays, we had dinner fairly early, usually around 6.00pm to 6.30pm, just before darkness set in. Once it turned dark, my mother would light the kerosene lantern so we could complete our homework and helped with household chores. My father typically returned just after 7.00pm, having already eaten at his workplace. By 7.30pm to 8.00pm at the latest, we would be done with our homework and ready for bed. 

Occasionally, the three older boys - myself included - would pester our mother for a bedtime story. She was a gifted storyteller, and although some stories were repeated, we never tired of listening to her. Of all the stories she told us, one remains itched in my memory - vivid and unforgettable. She said it had been passed down to her by her father, who had come to North Borneo (now called Sabah) as a young working man.

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The Scholar and The Centipede

"A long, long time ago in China, people lived in deep poverty. For a poor boy hoping to escape the cycle of hardship, there was only one path: passing the imperial civil service examination. Those who passed - especially the top scorer or Zhuang Yuan - would be guaranteed a position as a governor or a high-ranking official.

There was once a poor scholar who lived in a remote farming village. He studied diligently for years and eventually decided to travel to the city to sit for the examination. The journey from his village to the examination centre was long and treacherous, winding through jungle trails that were barely visible and seldom used.

To reach the city in time, he had to set out several days in advance. Along the way, he walked for miles, often without seeing any soul. Occasionally, he would rest in rundown hut or shed - simple shelters built long ago by kind-hearted travelers.

One afternoon, while making his way along the trail, he noticed a large centipede trapped beneath a fallen tree branch. It had clearly been struggling for quite some time, trying in vain to free itself. The scholar moved by compassion, gently lifted the branch and released the centipede. But the creature was injured and was unable to crawl. Without hesitation, the scholar took out a small container he was carrying - one with holes poked in for ventilation - and carefully placed the centipede inside. He added a few breadcrumbs for food and decided to care for it until it recovered, planning to set it free once it regained strength.

After about two days, the scholar noticed that the centipede had regained its strength. He decided it was time to set it free. Just as he was about to do so, he suddenly spotted an enormous snake - as thick as a steel bucket, according to my mother - slithering rapidly toward him. 

Panicked, he quickly gathered his belongings, including the container holding the centipede, and ran as fast as he could. The snake was gaining on him, and just as it seemed it would catch up, he spotted a small hut in a distance. He dashed inside and quickly bolted the door behind him. It was the only way to avoid being swallowed whole.

Inside the hut, he waited, hoping the snake would lose interest and slither away. But to his horror, he soon realized the snake wasn't leaving. Instead, it began coiling itself around the hut, cutting off all light and sealing every gap in the wooden walls. Darkness closed in, and the air inside grew stifling. Before long, the scholar was drenched in sweat, gasping for breath. He was on the verge of suffocation.

In that desperate moment, he remembered the centipede. With his last ounce of strength, he opened the container and released it in the dark. "I am going to die," he whispered, "but you are small enough, may be you can find a gap and escape. Go!" Then, he collapsed, preparing himself for the end. 

But just as he was slipping into unconsciousness, a faint light began to seep through the cracks in the walls. Cool air returned, and he took a deep, life-saving breath. Then he heard sounds of a violent struggle outside the hut - hissing, thrashing, and scuffling. Eventually, everything fell silent. 

Once he recovered enough strength, he slowly opened the door and stepped outside. What he saw broke his heart.

The giant snake lay dead, and clinging to its throat was the lifeless body of the centipede. In a final act of bravery, the centipede had bitten down on the snake's neck and refused to let go. The snake had rolled and twisted violently in an attempt to shake it off, crushing the centipede in the process. But the centipede never released its grip - and in doing so, saved the scholar's life. 

Overwhelmed with sorrow and gratitude, the scholar gently placed the centipede's body back into the container. He dug a small grave and buried it with care. Before continuing his journey, he knelt and bowed three time to honour the sacrifice of his tiny friend.

The scholar eventually reached the examination centre. He sat for the imperial examination - and passed. In time, he was appointed a government official and served with diligence and integrity, never forgetting the selfless act that had saved his life.

After the story ended, there was a deep, lingering silence among us. We felt a profound sense of loss and awe. Then, as always, came the gentle command that signaled the end of the evening: "That's the end of the story. Time for bed!".

Though simple, the story left a lasting impression. Its lesson - that kindness returned, even at the cost of one's own life, is the highest form of gratitude - is something that has stayed with me ever since.

Post addition (18 May 2020): A video which I received does show that a centipede is able to kill a snake!