More than thirty years have passed. Now 45, Sim Cher Chian sits on the balcony of his condo. His child has just returned from school, his wife is in the kitchen preparing snacks, and he brews a pot of Taiwanese high mountain tea. Sunlight filters through the greenery into the room, while he’s surrounded by the gentle laughter of his family.
Sim Cher Chian’s childhood was not always marked by hardship. He faintly recalls that his family of four once lived in a three-room HDB flat in Toa Payoh, and they led a modestly comfortable life. His father had a successful career, and his mother devoted herself to raising the children and managing the household. The early years of his childhood were carefree.
But fate took a sharp turn. During his primary school years, his father’s business failed, and his parents separated. He and his older brother moved from place to place, eventually living with their grandparents. After their grandparents passed away, they moved back to their father’s new home. The home was no longer as it once was — his father had a new wife, whom Cher Chian and his brother called “Auntie.”
Although they still had food to eat and school to attend, the atmosphere at home was cold and tense. Their auntie was extremely strict; scolding and corporal punishment were a norm. They endured harsh punishments — from being forced to hold a horse stance while standing on chairs to kneeling on washboards all night long.
“People nowadays probably don’t even know how a washboard looks like. Kneeling on it for a long time really hurts!” Cher Chian can still describe those days with a half-joking tone, but his voice carries an unmistakable tinge of melancholy.
From a Broken Childhood to a Wandering Youth
He was merely a primary school student when he ran away from home for the first time. He hid along the route his father took home from work and harboured a desire to be found and brought back — even if returning meant facing physical punishment again.
Over time, he got used to roaming the streets. Park benches, the undersides of parked cars, and the back alleys of coffee shops became his shelters. He made friends with other homeless youths, sharing warmth with one another — but they also strayed down the wrong path together: joining a secret society as well as engaging in theft and fights. Almost every police station in Singapore had his name and record.
To survive, Cher Chian had to become tougher and more agile. While in a secret society, he learnt that he had to outrun pursuers and strike ruthlessly in fights. Yet in the quiet of the night, he was still just a little boy, curled up under cardboard, a homesick youth longing for home.
“At that time, every day I searched for somewhere to sleep. Every day I felt anger, every day I cried — but I still wanted to go home.” Cher Chian reminisced with a smile, his eyes welling up with tears even though years have passed.
It wasn’t until he was sent to a children’s home that he finally had a place to shelter from the wind and rain. Life there was relatively stable. There were decorations during festive seasons, and everyone could run and play during their free time — but Cher Chian always knew in his heart that this was not truly home.
A Beacon of Light in Society
Before graduating from primary school, he had already attended three different schools and lived in two children’s homes. After completing the Primary School Leaving Examination (PSLE), Cher Chian entered the Normal Academic Stream (O Level). Yet he was always hovering on the fringe.
While the Normal Academic Stream spans 5 years, Cher Chian spent seven years in his secondary school, having retained in Secondary 1 for two years. Skipping school and wandering the streets became his routine, and the police station continued to be a place of familiarity. On one occasion, he was taken remand for a whole month, and his file was so thick he could barely flip through it.
As a teenager, Cher Chian was defiant at school. He fought even while hungry, and he played truant. While short in stature, he insisted on sitting in the very last row near the door. “I’m the strongest; how could I possibly sit in the front row?” he said.
Yet, when everyone thought he was beyond help, his Secondary 1 science teacher Mr Chua Wee Peng did not give up on him.
At first, a small observation caught the teacher’s attention. Cher Chian was a member of the library club, and he would often stay after class to help. Mr Chua noticed that this mischievous student was surprisingly efficient — whenever the books were in disarray or the glue had dried, he was always the first to set things right.
Mr Chua also noticed that his student often came to school hungry, yet he never asked anyone for money. Whenever Cher Chian skipped classes, Mr Chua would ask his classmates about his whereabouts and even drive out personally to look for him. “Even my father hardly ever looked for me whenever I left home,” Cher Chian said softly.
Later, Mr Chua made a decision — he arranged for Cher Chian to live with his aunt, who lived alone and was recovering from an illness. For the first time in his life, Cher Chian had a clean mattress and his own desk.
“That was the first time I had my own desk,” he recalled. “It was only in that stable environment that I truly felt I could focus on studying.”
Mr Chua never spoke sentimental words, yet he wrote letters to encourage Cher Chian, often signing off with “Love you.” The latter kept every single one of those letters.
In one letter, Mr Chua used the biology concept of “metamorphosis” to explain the process of a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. In it, he wrote: “Right now, you are like a caterpillar — everyone dislikes you and wishes you would disappear. But the caterpillar will eventually form a chrysalis and transform into a butterfly. You can, too.”
With his teacher’s support, Cher Chian felt the warmth of home for the first time. He then attended school punctually and studied diligently. Before long, he came to see his teacher as both a role model and a father figure.
Those days became an extraordinary and precious chapter in Cher Chian’s life. He remembers the teacher’s home as neat and tranquil. He would help clean the fish pond, and sometimes Mr Chua would brew a pot of tea. They would sit together quietly, yet there permeated a sense of stability he had never experienced before.
“That was the first time I felt that life could actually be like this,” Cher Chian said.
It was the moment of having a desk to call his own that he began to believe: “Perhaps I really can change for the better.”
Finding Rebirth in Military Life after Getting Lost Once Again
After graduating from secondary school, Cher Chian successfully enrolled in a polytechnic and moved back to live with his mother. Life was busy, and naturally, he lost contact with Mr Chua.
Life at polytechnic was far from easy. Even though he was barely getting by the first year, by the second year he began working part-time while studying to help shoulder his family’s expenses. He attended classes during the day and worked at night, often returning home during the wee hours. The relentless exhaustion soon took a toll on his already fragile emotional state.
By the final semester of his third year, he could no longer cope. Just a little more, and he would have graduated — but he chose to drop out.
He did not inform Mr Chua, feeling that he was now an adult and should no longer trouble his mentor. “Walking my own path is my responsibility,” he thought, carrying an indescribable mix of guilt and regret.
After dropping out of school, Cher Chian awaited enlistment. This was when he reunited with his old friends. The group he thought he had bid goodbye to once again returned, and he slipped back into his old ways: fighting, running underground gambling operations, and even dealing prohibited substances. He spent his days and nights in debauchery and pleasure, yet he felt profound emptiness.
Occasionally, he would recall the quiet moments at his teacher’s home, sipping tea, and remember the vow he had once made to give back to society — but that kind of life now seemed far out of reach.
At the age of 23, he finally enlisted. The military offered a structured environment, disciplined routines, and clear goals. For many, such a regime would feel restrictive — but it was exactly what Cher Chian needed.
“I knew I was capable of anything, and capable of doing anything, both good and bad — all I needed was discipline,” he said.
In the military, he worked hard to stand out, taking on the tasks that no one else wanted and leading his team to complete one difficult mission after another. “What others didn’t want to take on, I would,” he said. He discovered that he had a knack for leading and motivating people. He loved the sense of accomplishment that come from a job well done.
Eight years later, he was recommended for promotion to Master Sergeant, several years ahead of his peers. Yet at a time when everything seemed to be going smoothly, he declined the promotion and chose to leave the military.
Cher Chian said that those eight years helped him find himself again: “Whatever I wanted in my heart, as long as I went for it, I could achieve it.”
A New Chapter of Happiness: Protecting Everything He Cherishes
After leaving military service, Cher Chian decided to start afresh. In his early thirties, he returned to polytechnic, picked up his textbooks, and completed a three-year diploma programme. At the same time, he and his then-girlfriend — now his wife — embarked on a joint entrepreneurial venture.
His girlfriend came from a well-off family, the youngest and most cherished child, and was the kindest, gentlest person he had ever met. With decades of experience navigating life from the bottom, he knew exactly what he wanted and how to achieve it.
In the early days of their venture, they borrowed an unused office space from her father and opened a pet grooming studio, eventually renting a small shop to expand their operations.
At first, the grooming studio had no customers and generated no income. Gradually, daily revenue rose from 500 dollars, to 1,000, to 1,500… As their reputation grew, the business began to flourish, and they hired employees. Meanwhile, they started a family, adopted a pet dog, moved into a condominium, and employed a helper to manage daily chores.
“I used to not even have a place to sleep, so I never imagined I’d be able to lead a life like this,” Cher Chian said, his eyes filled with contentment.
Once the pet grooming business stabilised, he founded his own interior design and renovation company — a venture closer to what he truly loved: creating homes for others.
He brought beauty and order into life, stitching back together the fragments of a once-chaotic existence, one piece at a time.
“I Did Not Let My Teacher Down”
Years later, Cher Chian often thought of Mr Chua. From enlisting in the military to starting a business and raising a family, he always carried one thought: “I need to find my teacher.”
Mr Chua had already retired. Cher Chian once tried returning to his teacher’s old home, only to find it long abandoned. He asked the neighbours, but found no leads. Seventeen years passed in silence.
On the other hand, Mr Chua had not forgotten his student either. Whenever he passed by the places Cher Chian had once wandered, he would glance out the car window, hoping to see that familiar figure appear.
Once, while driving through an intersection, the radio played Eric Moo’s “Missing Someone”. At that moment, the traffic light turned red, and his vision blurred. Mr Chua fought to hold back tears, telling himself, “The car has to move forward, and so must I.”
It was not until 2018 that fate brought them back together. A former secondary school friend happened to meet Mr Chua and passed Cher Chian’s contact information to him.
Seventeen years after their first parting, when Cher Chian reunited with his teacher, there wasn’t much small talk. The first thing Mr Chua asked was for him to fill out Tzu Chi’s monthly donation form. Cher Chian was momentarily stunned and even worried that his teacher might have been scammed, thinking, “I have to see for myself what kind of organisation is this.”
But when he attended Tzu Chi’s Year End Blessing Ceremony and the Buddha Bathing Ceremony, all doubts vanished. Cher Chian was moved by the solemnity of the events and deeply touched by Master Cheng Yen’s teachings. He said, “We met too late, how come I only learnt about Tzu Chi at 38?”
After some time, he devoted himself wholeheartedly. Each morning, he would attend the Dharma Incense Permeation Session at dawn. At night, he would look up words he did not understand on his phone, eager to make up for what he had missed. He said, “We are not following the Master herself, but her teachings.”
Cher Chian was inspired by Tzu Chi’s spirit of selfless giving that transcends social status and background. “My team leader works as a cleaner. She hasn’t had much schooling, yet she gives silently and selflessly. This is where the true essence of Buddhism resides.”
In his free time, Cher Chian volunteers actively, and this year he also took on the responsibility of setting up and decorating the Buddha Bathing Ceremony event site.
Today, Cher Chian and his wife are both certified Tzu Chi volunteers. All three of their children have been vegetarians since birth. They attend the Tzu Chi Great Love Preschool and participate in the Parent-Child Bonding Class. Cher Chian hopes to educate the next generation through his actions, laying a steadier path with strong values: “In raising our children, we must cultivate our own habits, and we hope our children can grow into people who contribute to society and help even more people.”
At Tzu Chi, he often takes charge of traffic coordination. In 2025, he also helped with the setup for the Buddha Bathing Ceremony. He said that if, as a child, he had access to programmes like Kidz Hideout organised by Tzu Chi Humanistic Youth Centre, he might have been able to channel his energy productively at a younger age.
Sitting on the balcony, Cher Chian sipped tea as his children returned from school. His wife brought over fruit and snacks. Sunlight filtered through the greenery, and the room was filled with the gentle laughter of his family — everything was just right. At 45, he is living a life he never dared imagine in his youth.
He said that happiness is being able to look back, make amends, and start anew: “I didn’t give my teacher mountains of gold or silver, but I showed him that I became a proper man. I did not let him down.”
He has attained a life he never imagined. He finally understands — happiness can, in fact, be passed down.
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