ExclusiveIs our destiny carved in stone? Do good people always receive their due reward? #culture

Can you truly change your fate? What makes a good deed genuinely good? And do good people always receive their due reward? These age-old questions have echoed through time, stirring hearts and minds in every culture. Is our destiny carved in stone, or can acts of kindness and courage shift the course of our lives? What does it mean to do good—not for recognition, but simply because it is right? And does the universe really repay goodness with blessings? 16 00:00:36.413 --> 00:00:38.319 I’m Sara. Today, let’ s explore these powerful questions through three timeless stories. Each one features ordinary people whose lives were forever changed by the simple yet profound power of selflessness. 24 00:00:56.220 --> 00:00:58.020 during the Tang Dynasty, a humble farmer named Qiu Kaiyuan lived a life of quiet generosity. Known for his warm hospitality, Qiu welcomed travelers into his modest home, sharing meals and stories late into the night. One autumn evening, a wandering monk passed through. Over flickering candlelight, the monk shared a cryptic piece of wisdom: “No act of kindness is too small to matter, and no wrongdoing too minor to avoid. Fate may be written, but it can be rewritten through good deeds.” Those words struck a chord in Qiu. From that day forward, he vowed to live with even greater compassion. When neighbors fell on hard times, he offered money, labor, or a kind word without hesitation. But his greatest act of kindness came when he noticed a problem that had long plagued the village: a river cut them off from the nearest market, forcing villagers to walk miles downstream to find a crossing. For years, they’ d dreamed of a bridge—but funds had always fallen short. Qiu decided to take matters into his own hands. Through the dry autumn and winter, he and his family hauled stones to lay sturdy foundations in the riverbed. Come spring, with the help of friends, he constructed a simple wooden bridge. When it was finished, the village erupted in celebration. Though thinner and worn from the effort, Qiu’ s heart swelled with great joy —he had eased a burden that once seemed immovable. But life, as it often does, tested his resolve. Soon after, Qiu fell while plowing his fields, injuring himself badly. He spent months bedridden, and medical bills drained what little savings the family had left. One night, his wife—tired and worried—voiced what many might have thought: “You’ ve poured your heart into helping others, yet here we are, suffering. Where’s the reward for your kindness?” Qiu, ever steady, replied with a smile, “I don’t do good for rewards. I do it for peace of mind. Let’s trust that time will tell.” Two years later, his neighbor Old Yang faced a crisis. His son was gravely ill, and the family couldn’ t afford the medicine needed to save him. In desperation, Yang prepared to slaughter his prized cow - still nursing her calf - to raise the money. When Qiu saw the cow and calf crying out as the butcher approached, his heart broke. Without hesitation, he handed Yang his last savings to buy back the cow, sparing its life. He even ensured the cow and calf could reunite regularly - a gesture that moved the entire village. Yet misfortune struck again. At a friend’s banquet, Qiu choked on a sip of wine and developed a persistent hiccup that no remedy could cure. His wife, now at her wit’s end, broke down. “You’ve done so much good, yet trouble follows you! Is kindness just a fool’s errand?” For the first time, Qiu felt a flicker of doubt in his heart, but he held firm. He would not let suffering shake the values he lived by. One day, while visiting the city, Qiu encountered a mysterious fortune-teller renowned for his eerie accuracy. Curious, Qiu asked him to read his fate. The fortune-teller studied his face, then frowned. “You’re a good man,” he said, “but your fate is hard to read—it keeps changing.” When Qiu pressed, sharing his hardships and sacrifices, the man simply nodded. “Come with me.” In a trance-like vision, the fortune-teller led Qiu to a shadowy hall in the afterlife, where a celestial opened a great ledger. There, Qiu saw his life recorded – not just as it has been, but as it could have been. He saw that he had once been fated to die from a broken leg years ago—but building the bridge had softened the injury. He had been destined to suffer a fatal illness—but sparing the cow had extended his life by a decade. His small acts of kindness, unnoticed and unrewarded in the moment, had quietly rewritten the story of his life. Awakened from the vision, Qiu felt his faith restored. He lived the rest of his days with renewed peace and purpose. In time, his later years were marked by health, harmony, and quiet joy. He died at 90, content —knowing that true goodness asks for nothing, yet somehow, always finds its way back. 150 00:05:45.660 --> 00:05:48.190 during the Tang Dynasty’s Tianbao era, Hui Enying was the last of a once-proud family. Frail as a child, he had been raised in a Buddhist temple, steeped in teachings of compassion and karma. By his thirties, married but childless, he feared his family’s legacy would die with him. After years of prayer, a son was born: Huawu, whose name meant “turning troubles to nothing.” But Huawu was a sickly child, crying day and night. Hui’ s long-waited joy turned quickly to worry. Desperate, Hui turned to the temple’s elderly abbot, a life-long friend. The abbot soothed the boy with a gentle touch, then shared a shocking truth: Huawu’s illness was not mere misfortune. Hui’ s ancestors had built their fortune through greed and cruelty, even framing a rival family, the Lu clan, leading to their ruin. The abbot explained that Huawu was a soul from the Lu family, reborn to drain Hui’s wealth and end his bloodline as karmic justice. Crushed, Hui withdrew for days, consumed by guilt and grief. But his Buddhist upbringing sparked a revelation: wealth and lineage meant little without virtue. Rather than despair, he chose to atone. He poured his fortune into building roads, feeding the poor, and even tracking down the Lu family’s descendants to support their education. When Huawu, now a mischievous seven-year-old, accidentally set fire to a neighbor’s haystack, destroying several homes, Hui didn’t scold him. Instead, he helped rebuild the houses, earning the villagers’ admiration. The following year, when famine struck, Hui gave nearly all his wealth to feed refugees, keeping only enough for his family to survive. He didn’t act for praise or redemption. He acted because it felt right. To his surprise, Huawu’s health began to improve. The boy, once defiant, grew focused and studious. Years later, he passed the imperial exams and became a respected official. Hui’s family, once cursed to vanish, began to thrive. One day, the old abbot visited and smiled. “Your selfless deeds turned the tide of fate,” he said. “True goodness, done without expectation, holds the power to heal and transform.” 214 00:08:17.200 --> 00:08:19.280 a wealthy merchant named Xue Er sought the wisdom of Chen Qi, a fortune-teller so precise he was nicknamed “Ghost-Eye Seven.” Xue brought two friends along, and Chen’ s predictions for them proved eerily accurate: one was promoted after heroically saving a governor from a bear; the other inherited a fortune through filial piety. But when Chen read Xue’s face, his tone darkened. “Your face is ashen,” he said. “A deadly fate awaits you, within fifty days.” Shaken but undeterred, Xue made a choice: “If my time is short, I’ll make it meaningful.” He began giving generously—repairing roads, funding medicine for the sick, and quietly helping those in need. One day, strolling by the Qiantang River, he spotted a man he spotted a man about to leap into the water. It was Hu Rui, a trader ruined by a shipwreck. Xue gently talked him down, then gave him 2,500 taels of silver to start anew—asking for nothing in return. Weeks passed. The fifty-day mark came and went. Xue lived. When he met Chen again, the fortune-teller gasped. “Your face has changed,” he said. “The shadow of death is gone. Your kindness has rewritten your fate.” Xue lived to 90, his life a testament to the quiet power of doing good without seeking reward. 255 00:09:52.179 --> 00:09:53.829 speak to a universal truth: kindness has a quiet, transformative power. Qiu Kaiyuan, Hui Enying, and Xue Er did not act for glory or reward. They gave because it was the right thing to do, even when life felt unfair. Their stories ask us to reflect: What is a good deed if we expect something in return? Is fate a fixed script, or can our choices rewrite the ending? And do we believe in goodness only when it benefits us—or because it expresses who we truly are? Goodness doesn’ t always bring immediate rewards. Sometimes, it brings hardship first. But as these stories show, every act of kindness ripples outward, reshaping not just our lives, but the world around us. So, what small act of good can you do today? It might just change your fate—or someone else’ s. That’s it for today. Thanks for watching – and stay kind. See you soon.