My Destiny

Life, for ordinary people, essentially means that since one is alive, one must make a living. And making a living, in essence, means that if one wants to live a little better, one must strive to earn a little more money.

For ordinary people, earning money is a completely unpoetic affair. Being able to get used to the process is already extraordinary.

Thank heavens, Juan and I had long grown accustomed to our own process of earning money, so we both considered ourselves incredibly fortunate.

In the blink of an eye, April arrived, and Shenzhen once again became a vibrant city that never slept. Young people flocked to Shenzhen in droves, with university students becoming even more numerous. Shenzhen was like a prosperous city sounding the assembly call for the youth, changing with each passing day and growing increasingly beautiful—a kind of beauty that matures from a young girl into a young woman.

Our new photo studio opened smoothly, with monthly revenue steadily increasing and profits meeting expectations.

The pharmacy also opened its doors—Director Xu acted as the guarantor, and the century-long history of the Yuxian Nursing School also played a facilitating role. By then, people could search for a wealth of information on computers, and the history of the Yuxian Nursing School was thus unearthed by the approval authorities. One could also say that my "Principal Mother" had blessed me.

I still set aside a corner of the pharmacy to sell books—primarily medical, health-related, and children's books, with a small selection of bestsellers. The profits were decent. The bookshelf, designed by Gao Xiang, was triangular and three-dimensional, taking up very little space.

Every day, I walked from the photo studio to the pharmacy, as punctual as clocking in for work. Juan and her younger brother also went to work at the supermarket on time, each with their own keys. It was a strange daily routine because Juan and I saw each other less often. If we missed each other, either I would start work early, or she would finish early.

Fortunately, with more financial flexibility, Juan also bought a mobile phone, making it easier for us to talk.

Juan said her younger brother had also taken a liking to reading, and the pharmacy seemed to have become his personal reading room. Reading every night had become a habit for him.

Xiang hadn't returned to Shanghai for a long time because of me.

Before May Day, I took the initiative to say, "You should go back to Shanghai to see your mother. Otherwise, she might start resenting me."

He said, "Yes, she must miss me, but she probably wants me to make the first move."

After Xiang left, I received a letter from my Adoptive Father. He insisted that I return to Yuxian in July because the Yuxian Nursing School was celebrating its centennial. Descendants of the Fang family from many countries around the world would gather in Yuxian to trace their roots and honor their ancestors. The provincial and municipal governments attached great importance to this event. As the only descendant of the Fang family in China, it would clearly be inappropriate for me not to attend.

Two days later, I received a formal invitation from the Yuxian County government.

I decided to go back.

Juan said, "No hesitation, you must go back. If you don't, I won't allow it."

I said, "What about the pharmacy? It just opened, and now we're closing it again. What kind of impression does that give?"

She said, "I'll take charge of the pharmacy's operations. Selling medicine is no trivial matter. You trust me to handle it, don't you?"

I said, "Can you really feel at ease leaving the supermarket to your brother alone?"

She said, "We'll hire someone to help him."

She hired a young woman from Sichuan.

After meeting her, I wasn't entirely satisfied and asked Juan why she didn't hire someone prettier.

She said, "I hope to help my brother settle down in Shenzhen in the future. Someone too pretty wouldn't be a good match for him. Someone who is willing to live a sincere and earnest life with him is the most suitable."

Yuxian had also changed a great deal.The completion of the Linjiang Bridge and the opening of the Lin-Yu Highway not only shortened the distance between the two places but also boosted trade and commerce. More people came to Yu County and even the surrounding mountain villages for sightseeing and tourism. Yu County saw an increase in shops and family-run guesthouses, with two new hotels built—one three-star and one four-star. Agritourism brought liveliness to the surrounding mountain villages, with vehicles and figures from Linjiang coming and going in an endless stream.

Standing before the long-unseen door of my home, the popular phrase of the time popped into my mind: "incubation base." Back then, "development zones" were springing up like mushrooms across China. Some places, however, didn’t call them "development zones" but something like "incubation bases," a more vivid term.

Although it was Sunday, my Adoptive Father was not at home, as he was still conducting research in the countryside and hadn’t returned yet. I called him from outside the door, and he told me the key was in the usual place.

The usual place was the mailbox. It had a keyhole, but that was just for show—only a small trick could open it. My Adoptive Father often lost his keys, so he kept a spare in the mailbox just in case.

The front door had been repaired, with two stone carvings added on either side: one of a crane and the other of a gourd.

I asked my Adoptive Father what that was about.

He said it was a long story and that he would tell me when he got home.

I opened the door and stepped into the courtyard, noticing that both the yard and the house had been renovated. It wasn’t a brand-new kind of repair but rather a restoration in the style of cultural preservation—maintaining the old appearance while making everything much more ideal than when I had lived there.

I called my Adoptive Father again, asking when he would be home and whether I should prepare dinner in advance.

He said he would definitely be home in an hour and that he had already made some preparations. He would cook when he got back, and I should just relax and wait for him without worrying about anything.

The house had been remodeled to include a large living room, with several old photographs hanging on the walls. These weren’t just ordinary "old" photos—they were portraits of figures from the Qing Dynasty and the Republic of China era. Among them were one imperial scholar, two provincial scholars, a county magistrate, and a Western-suited medical doctor who had studied abroad and was a member of the Royal Society of Medicine in Britain. There was even a middle-aged missionary!

Naturally, they all shared the surname Fang and were important historical figures of the Fang family—all ancestors of Principal Mother, with no connection to me whatsoever.

Still, I examined them carefully and memorized the names of most of the figures. I felt no reverence, but rather a sense of inadequacy—after all, I had taken on the Fang surname shortly after birth!

After taking a shower, I lay flat on the bed to rest and once again thought of the phrase "incubation base."

Indeed, the photos in the living room told me that this century-old Fang family residence could very well be likened to an "incubation base." Many of the Fang descendants who had left here to venture across the nation and the world had become sources of pride for the family. They were about to return, and this old house, the only remaining Fang family residence in the country, held the significance of roots for them.I was also born in this old house, where I spent a happy childhood and a colorful, dream-filled girlhood. So, this place could also be called my "hatching ground"—contrary to Andersen's fairy tales, I emerged from a "duck egg" shell; a duck egg that, by a twist of fate, was mistakenly laid among a flock of swans. I know my own limitations. Looking at my current situation, I am destined to lead an ordinary life. I am not someone who willingly accepts ordinariness—who in their youth would willingly settle for the ordinary? But I have indeed seen my life clearly. Unless I win tens of millions in the lottery, my ordinariness is beyond doubt. Confucius said, "At fifty, I knew the will of Heaven," but that referred to the ancients, and mainly to those in officialdom. Four years of working life have taught me that for ordinary people like me among the masses, in modern society, one should know the will of Heaven by thirty at the latest. Otherwise, wouldn't one be living in a state of delusion? Besides, even if I did win tens of millions in the lottery, would that make me extraordinary? Wouldn't I still be me? I am not afraid of ordinariness. In fact, I could even say that since ordinariness is my destined fate, I am willing to coexist peacefully with it and live out my life in plain simplicity. All my efforts and toils are not aimed at transcending ordinariness but rather at making that ordinariness stable, striving to extract a few faint, subtle flavors from a stable, ordinary life. I do not approve of "persisting in the impossible." I believe this phrase, which some have imbued with poetic charm, is actually quite deceptive. Why persist in something clearly impossible? Isn't that just pointless struggle? I know full well that apart from benefiting from the Fang family of Yu County, I have no capital in my life to indulge in reckless struggles. Even the fact that I am a descendant of the Fang family is not a truth but merely an "established fact." My struggles might very well turn this "established fact" into an embarrassing reality.

Yes, I truly cannot afford to struggle.

Let ordinariness become even more ordinary! What's so frightening about ordinariness? It's not like living is worse than death! What is there to fear?

I want to live with dignity within ordinariness...

With these thoughts, I fell asleep.

When I woke up, my Adoptive Father was already in the kitchen.

A moment later, we began our meal. Adoptive Father opened a bottle of red wine and asked if I wanted some.

I said, "Yes, of course."

Adoptive Father happily poured me a glass.

He was in excellent spirits.

The Government Work Report during the 2006 Two Sessions announced the abolition of the agricultural tax. Some of those who had previously criticized him had apologized, while others could no longer use the matter to make insinuations or veiled remarks. The political haze that had once enveloped him had dissipated—I didn't need to ask to know that this was the main reason for his excellent mood, even though it meant he hadn't become the municipal Party secretary. The other reason, of course, was the return of overseas members of the Fang family to seek their roots. When he spoke to me on the phone, he had said he was participating in this as a joyous occasion.He said there used to be stone carvings on both sides of the gate, donated by the people of Yu County to the Fang residence on the seventieth birthday of my "Principal Mother's" grandfather, in gratitude for the old gentleman's long-standing charitable medical services in the community—later destroyed, and recently recarved based on photographs: the crane symbolizes longevity, and the gourd represents the jade pot of medicine. He said if he were the Party Secretary or Mayor, then with his dual identity as Fang Jingyu's husband, he should rightfully be the chairman of the welcome event organizing committee. But since he is neither the Party Secretary nor the Mayor anymore, merely the deputy director of the Standing Committee of the People's Congress, he could only serve as the "Secretary-General."

He emphasized the words "merely" with particular weight.

He said that for a period, this place was jointly occupied by several companies. Half a year ago, the Municipal Party Committee and Municipal Government issued a joint red-headed document, ordering them to vacate immediately for repairs. He said that from now on, this would be the permanent "Former Residence of the Fang Family," but he and I could live here at any time like owners, with an inalienable right of residence, though the property rights would belong to the public.

As we, father and daughter, ate and chatted, a young man arrived, a staff member of the organizing committee. He asked my Adoptive Father to review a few pages of names that were about to be printed into a booklet. Adoptive Father left the dining table and sat aside to examine them carefully. Work always came first for him. Even if he had just picked up his bowl, he would put it down immediately.

As he read, he grew displeased, looking up coldly to ask, "What does 'self-employed individual' mean?"

The young man stammered, "Self-employed individual... you understand."

"I don’t understand! How could the only descendant of the Fang family in the country, and the most direct descendant at that, be labeled a 'self-employed individual'? What would the Fang family guests returning from overseas think?" Adoptive Father’s face hardened.

"This... then could you give clear instructions on how to change it?" The young man seemed a bit confused.

I said, "Dad, that’s the fact, don’t change it."

Adoptive Father said, "It must be changed. This is not a minor issue."

The young man said, "Please don’t be angry. I was temporarily assigned here, I have no experience, and I’m not entirely clear on the situation."

Adoptive Father said, "I’m not criticizing you. Remember, change it like this—replace 'self-employed individual' with 'freelancer'; for education, don’t write 'night university student in progress,' that’s wordy. Just write 'university'..."

He turned to me and asked, "Daughter, you didn’t forget to bring back a few satisfactory photos of yourself, did you?"

I said, "I brought them back. Do you need them now?"

He said, "Then I’ll trouble you, daughter."

I went to retrieve the envelope with the photos and, outside the dining room door, overheard Adoptive Father saying to the young man, "My daughter is not just anyone’s daughter. I emphasize this not because she is the daughter of a former mayor and current deputy director of the Standing Committee of the People’s Congress, but because she is Comrade Fang Jingyu’s daughter. Fang Jingyu was not merely the late principal of Yu County Nursing School; as I said earlier, she was the inheritor of the Fang family lineage in the country. So, what kind of person Fang Jingyu’s only daughter is directly affects the sentiments of the Fang family descendants seeking their roots... Do you understand now why I was a bit agitated earlier?..."

I heard the young man say, "I understand. I promise to make the changes according to your instructions."

Afraid that entering directly would embarrass Adoptive Father, I deliberately made noise outside the door and waited for the room to quiet down before pushing it open.Adoptive Father said, "Daughter, do you mind if I pick one for you?"

I smiled and replied, "That would be best."

In truth, I felt quite uneasy as well, because "in reality," I was self-employed; "in reality," I was still attending night school; "in reality," I was far too ordinary—for the Fang family, I was so ordinary that it bordered on mediocrity.

Adoptive Father asked again, "Daughter, how about this one?"

I smiled and said, "Good."

After the young man left, the atmosphere between us father and daughter as we continued our meal wasn’t as pleasant as before. It wasn’t unpleasant, just somewhat more solemn.

Adoptive Father told me that my main task during the event was to accompany the female guests and take care of the elderly ones—for example, offering a helping hand or acting as a "hearing aid" if any of them had difficulty hearing.

I nodded with a smile.

"But try to talk about yourself as little as possible. If someone asks, it’s impolite not to answer, but keep your replies simple and vague. Do you understand what I mean?" he added with a smile.

As usual, I nodded with a smile.

"Don’t worry, your role is a relaxed one. When the time comes, I’ll introduce you to them personally. My introduction will be more effective than you talking about yourself. You’ve lost weight—make sure to eat more in the coming days." He placed a chicken drumstick in my bowl.

To prove to him how happy I was to be home, I ate with great relish.

Afraid he might steer the conversation back to me (which would be unbearable for me), I took the initiative to bring up a topic—asking him whether not becoming the municipal party secretary was his biggest regret in life.

He replied candidly, "Yes, of course it was. As a government official, who wouldn’t hope to have served as the top leader before retirement?"

I asked again, "Was that so important?"

He said, "It’s not important once you let go of it, and your father has let go of it now. At the time, I struggled a bit. It wasn’t about craving more power, but about hoping to do more practical things for the people. Daughter, you must understand, some practical matters simply can’t be accomplished as the second-in-command. Once you become the top leader, it seems all the conditions naturally fall into place. Some people pursue official positions as an ideal, while others become officials for the sake of their ideals. Your father belongs to the latter. It’s all in the past now, let’s not dwell on it. Have some more food—your father’s stir-fried pork liver with chili peppers is quite something. I haven’t seen you touch this dish, let me serve you some..." His good mood had returned.

After the meal, as it was still early, we moved to the living room to chat. Adoptive Father said he liked the spacious living room. There, he felt it was easier to view the present from a historical perspective.

His words puzzled me.

I asked, "Why only view the present from a historical perspective, and not view history from the perspective of contemporary people?"

He replied with deep emotion, "For far too long, people across China and around the world have viewed history and historical figures through the lens of the present. This has made it easy for people to fall into the mindset of being wise after the event and to revel in their own analytical prowess, even considering themselves thinkers. If we also try to view the present from a historical perspective, we can better appreciate the development of the times and the progress of society. As they say, every new and good thing should remind us of how hard-won it is; every year of change should remind us of the arduous journey."

Clearly, Adoptive Father had pondered my question many times and had much insight to share."Dad, you pretty much know all the cadres, business figures, outstanding individuals, elites, and key players across various industries in Linjiang City and Yuxian County. You must feel happy when you're with them. But when you return to your hometown and suddenly find yourself surrounded by relatives and fellow villagers struggling in poverty, unable to break free despite their efforts, do you ever feel a sense of psychological division?"

I no longer hesitated, setting aside my concerns, and seized the moment to ask him a question I had long wanted to ask—one that had troubled me for quite some time.

He didn’t answer immediately, instead pulling out a cigarette case.

I lit the lighter for him.

After taking a couple of puffs, he looked up at the ceiling and said, "Ah, daughter, you’ve hit a sore spot. Of course, I have the feeling you mentioned. I tell them that governments at all levels will gradually take it upon themselves to eliminate poverty and suffering among the people…"

"Like giving a report?"

"Absolutely not. When we gather for drinks, when we visit each other during the New Year, when we sit around the hearth chatting about everyday life…"

"Do they believe you?"

"I think they do. Because I’m not just someone who once served as mayor—I’m also their relative, their childhood friend. Our relationship is different. And I have numbers, facts…"

"What do your numbers and facts have to do with them?"

"Because their lives are changing too. Girls are wearing gold necklaces and rings; young men can afford motorcycles; those who smoke have switched from leaf tobacco to cigarettes; among the young people returning to the village, there are college students now; some who went out to work have acquired skilled trades and become good craftsmen…"

"Dad, let’s not talk about those things. One last question…"

"Daughter, you’re starting to sound like a reporter!"

"It’s not an interview—it’s about me. Dad, you and my Principal Mother, back then, what hopes did you have for me?"

"When you say 'back then,' what time are you referring to?"

"When I was a child."

"How young?"

"Just a few years old."

"Let me put it this way, daughter—before you reached third grade in elementary school, your Principal Mother and I, aside from teaching you some basic principles of being a good person and trying our best to help you grow up healthy and happy, didn’t really have any extraordinary hopes for your life. It wasn’t until you were in fifth or sixth grade that we started to have some hopes…" Adoptive Father tapped another cigarette out of the case.

"Dad, you just finished one." I took the cigarette away from him.

He said, "Let me have one more."

I said, "Answer the question first."

He said, "Fine. But after I answer, whether you’re satisfied or not, you have to reward me with that cigarette."

I said, "Deal."

He said, "At that time, we only hoped you could get into a relatively good university. Not necessarily Tsinghua or Peking University, but schools like Fudan, Beijing Normal University, Renmin University, or Sun Yat-sen University. We hoped you’d become a university professor someday. Our hopes for you weren’t about gaining satisfaction from them. We just felt that such a direction might better align with your life’s aspirations. When you got into Guizhou Normal University, we weren’t disappointed. Dreams can be achieved step by step—like pursuing a master’s at Guizhou University next, then a Ph.D. at another university…""Sorry, Dad, I've let you down so much..." I shed tears.

"Don't cry. Under those circumstances, your actions were understandable. If you hadn't done that, it wouldn't have been like you..." He extended a hand toward me.

I handed him the cigarette and lit the lighter again.

He took a puff and stood up.

I asked softly, "So now, you've given up all hope for me, haven't you?"

He paced back and forth and said, "Neither you nor I can know what your Principal Mother would have thought. But I still hold hope for you; and I believe that if your Principal Mother were still alive, she would agree..."

I asked in an even softer voice, "What kind of hope?"

My Adoptive Father stopped in front of me, bent down, looked into my eyes, and said, "Daughter, be a good person. Be an ordinary, common good person for your whole life."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, that's all."

"Surely it's not... just another way of saying you've completely given up on me?"

"Surely it's not."

In the space adorned with large photographs of successful figures—scholars, provincial graduates, county magistrates, doctors, and others—I listened to my Adoptive Father emphasize "ordinary" and "common," which gave me a rather surreal feeling. I suspected my face might have betrayed an expression of disbelief.

Adoptive Father straightened up, took a drag from his cigarette, and without looking at me, began pacing as he spoke. "Daughter, there's no need to doubt my words. Let me ask you, how many cities like Linjiang are there in China?"

I replied, "Around two hundred or so."

He asked again, "How many vice-chairmen are there in the Shanghai Photographers Association?"

I said, "Gao Xiang told me there are six in total."

He stopped, still not looking at me, and gazed at a photograph on the wall, speaking slowly. "Although I am no longer the mayor, I once held that position. So, you are the daughter of one of only over two hundred mayors in all of China. You are also the fiancée of one of only six vice-chairmen of the Shanghai Photographers Association. You also have the unique background of the Fang family, and I’ve heard from Gao Xiang that his parents’ families are also quite distinguished. So, even though you yourself are currently ordinary and common..."

"I feel like I will remain ordinary and common for the rest of my life..."

"Then you must first and foremost be a good person!" He turned toward me, bent down, and looked at me again, his expression and tone particularly serious. "Among the over one billion ordinary, common people in China, you still belong to the extremely rare few who are fortunate. A society must, of course, educate everyone to be good people, but it must first ensure that the extremely rare few fortunate ones become good people. In my view, China’s moral education has taken a long detour over a considerable period of history. For the vast majority, it repeats clichés day in and day out, while for the extremely few so-called successful individuals, almost the entire society fawns over them with obsequious flattery, as if becoming a wealthy tycoon automatically perfects one’s character. But the progress of a nation ultimately depends on what kind of people the over ninety percent are. Do you understand?"

I said, "Dad, you’ve confused me..."

He replied, "Although I was once the mayor and am now the deputy director of the Standing Committee of the People’s Congress, I cannot say what I just said to the extremely rare few. It would be pointless and only provoke resentment. But my dear daughter, I hope that you, as one of the fortunate among the ordinary and common people, will strive to be a good person throughout your life. You must make me and your Principal Mother believe that among China’s vast multitude, there is one good person who is our daughter. Because among the vast multitude, you are one who should very well become a good person. Being a good person throughout your life is also a form of success. Being a good person requires no investment, no innate talent... Still don’t understand?"

"Understood." In truth, what I thought was that he had lowered his expectations for me to the bare minimum.

This stirred up sorrow within me once more.

"If you truly understand, then give your old dad a kiss."

He tilted his cheek toward me, and I ceremoniously "rewarded" him for his honesty. Adoptive Father’s words made me feel once again—perhaps being ordinary and common truly is my destiny in this life.Why did Adoptive Father use both "ordinary" and "common"? As I lay down to sleep, I couldn't help but continue pondering, and finally, I understood—each term indeed refers to something distinct. "Ordinary" implies having no particular expertise in terms of ability, or possessing a profession that is nothing remarkable; while "common" refers to one's relationship with wealth. My life is destined to have no connection with wealth. I have no fixed abode, and aside from the small savings I've invested in two little shops, I have nothing else. Li Juan and I started from the same point in life. Juan is common, and compared to me, she seems to have a recently proven talent for business. So, is my life even more ordinary than Li Juan's? The difference is, Juan's family expects her to gradually become extraordinary, including me, her friend, who always encourages her, hoping she will become extraordinary soon. She herself is putting in all her effort, striving hard toward the goal of becoming extraordinary, often not making a big deal out of having only one kidney. Juan is a good person, so no one lectures her on the "Sutra of Goodness"; she only needs to continue being herself as always.

As for me, not only am I ordinary, not only am I common, but I also have to be personally instructed by Adoptive Father, so that I will always understand—I am both ordinary and not ordinary, both common and not common, because I have an adoptive father who was once a mayor; because my late adoptive mother will undoubtedly occupy a place in the historical records of a small county town; because I have an indirect relationship with a once-prominent family in that county—a relationship that exists if you say it does, and doesn't if you say it doesn't. Clearly, according to Adoptive Father's logic, I am simultaneously one of the extremely few fortunate ones among the masses, so I must remain ordinary and common while also consciously striving to be a good person. I understand that what Adoptive Father said ultimately represents the demands society places on me through him. And clearly, he, this extraordinary and uncommon father, believes he has a certain duty to society and a certain responsibility toward me.

I am ordinary, I am common, I am fortunate; I am among the masses, yet I belong to the extremely few fortunate ones—the fortunate ones should consciously strive to be good people, so if I lack that consciousness, it would obviously first and foremost be a disservice to my fortune.

But how does an ordinary, common good person go about being good? Honestly, I've never seriously thought about it, nor have I ever bothered to.

Li Juan never thinks about such self-tormenting questions, so why can't I?

Juan has always naturally been herself, and I believe I have the same inalienable right.

Thinking this, I grew resistant to Adoptive Father's teachings—if I were already a graduate student at a top university, would he still be giving me such earnest instructions? Isn't it precisely because I am, in fact, ordinary and common that being a good person has become his only hope for me?

I couldn't help but think of Confucius' famous saying: "At fifty, I knew the mandate of Heaven."

But I am only twenty-four, and I already know the mandate of Heaven. This is truly a bit cruel. Since it is so, then let it be so. I will strive within my ordinariness, I will have no regrets within my commonness, and I will peacefully coexist with my fate, just as a person coexists with their own shadow.

...

I dreamed of a colorful butterfly fluttering above my head. It quickly grew larger, first turning into a little angel, but its wings didn't become white feathered—they remained butterfly wings, transparent like colorful glass, shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight. The little angel quickly grew to the size of a real person, and upon closer look, it turned out to be "Principal Mother."I said, "Mom, I've become ordinary, I've become common, but I can't help myself. Please don't be angry with me..."

"Principal Mother" cupped my face and kissed my forehead, her expression full of joy.

She said, "I know, Mom knows everything. Being ordinary isn't wrong, being common isn't a sin. Everyone's life is just a phenomenon of existence. As long as you are content with your own life, Mom is happy for you."

I said, "But Dad still expects me to be a good person. I'm confused—I don't know what it means to be a good person."

She said, "My daughter is already a good person."

...

The next morning, as soon as my Adoptive Father saw me, he said, "It seems my daughter has rested well—you look radiant and full of energy!"

The opening ceremony of the welcoming event was grand and went smoothly. It was presided over by my Adoptive Father. For his role, he had gotten a haircut, styled his hair, wore a sharp suit and a striking tie, looking many years younger. The municipal Party secretary personally delivered the welcome speech, and Young Pioneers presented flowers to the guest representatives.

During the free activities after the meeting, my special status made me the center of attention among the guests, with many taking turns to take photos with me. There were about a hundred people—half surnamed Fang, the other half their spouses or children. Apart from the children, most were extraordinary and uncommon individuals who had become citizens of other countries, including current students from Harvard and Cambridge.

Bloodline is truly powerful. As long as one inherits an extraordinary and uncommon bloodline, it seems difficult to remain ordinary and common.

While taking photos with them, I kept repeating to myself the words "Principal Mother" had said in my dream. Otherwise, I would have felt overwhelmed by an invisible pressure, and the smile on my face would have become forced.

An elderly gentleman in his seventies, with a white beard, a spirited demeanor, and a robust physique, asked my Adoptive Father after taking a photo with me, "May I hug her?"

My Adoptive Father smiled and gently pushed me toward him. I took the initiative and hugged the elderly gentleman.

The elderly gentleman said, "Wan Zhi, we are all very happy to see you looking so spirited, with such good temperament and upbringing. The only descendant of our Fang family on the mainland has not... What I mean is, with our Fang family's genes, this trip has not been in vain for me!..."

He asked the other members of the Fang family, "Don't you all feel the same?"

Those extraordinary and uncommon individuals all nodded.

He then asked me, "I heard from your father that you are involved in investments?"

I was taken aback by the question.

My Adoptive Father immediately said, "Yes, she enjoys that line of work."

I had no choice but to nod.

The elderly gentleman then asked, "Is it going smoothly?"

I went along with it and replied, "It's going alright. My funds are limited, so I only make small investments."

The elderly gentleman gestured for a middle-aged man to come over and told me to seek his help if I ever encountered difficulties. The man handed me a business card and said cheerfully, "I'm your cousin, by relation."

My Adoptive Father told me that the elderly gentleman was "Principal Mother's" cousin.

I asked my Adoptive Father why the elderly gentleman had left one sentence unfinished.

My Adoptive Father said, "They've heard too many negative things abroad and thought they would meet a version of you who was nearly illiterate."

I said, "So they imagined me as a foolish Eldest Sister!"

My Adoptive Father laughed and said, "Why do you have to put it that way!"

The next evening, my Adoptive Father had a serious conversation with me. He asked if I wanted to go abroad. "Principal Mother's" cousin, who was also my uncle, wanted to take me abroad.

This was completely unexpected.

I asked, "What about Gao Xiang?"Adoptive Father said, "Your uncle guarantees he can also send Gao Xiang abroad, and he said..."

"Said what?"

"That his estate after he passes can be inherited by the two of you."

"What if Gao Xiang isn't willing?"

"So you should ask him, preferably now, so I can give your uncle an answer tomorrow. He's taking this decision very seriously."

Under Adoptive Father's insistence, I called Gao Xiang on the phone right then.

Gao Xiang said, "I definitely won't go to America. My mom is over sixty already—would it be right for me to leave her behind in Shanghai? You should know, Shanghainese are very attached to Shanghai, the older they get, the harder it is to leave. But you're free, whatever you decide is fine, I won't hold you back..."

After ending the call, I said to Adoptive Father, "Dad, you heard him. Tomorrow you'll just have to thank my uncle for his kindness on my behalf."

Adoptive Father said, "Don't you even want to know what your uncle's future estate consists of?"

I said, "Dad, is there still any need to know?"

Adoptive Father said nothing more, silently stood up and walked out. At the doorway, he stopped, still not turning around, but raised his arm and gave a thumbs-up.

This made me quite uneasy, because that gesture often indicates dissatisfaction with someone.

But I couldn't worry about that anymore. I was Gao Xiang's fiancée; the premise for my major decisions couldn't be anything other than the shared stance of both of us.

On the second and third days, we father and daughter didn't spend any time alone together. He had to approve all matters, big and small, and he was very busy.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, during the gathering, I didn't sit with him either; he was seated with the older guests.

Physically present, my mind wandered everywhere, thoughts scattering randomly. I suddenly remembered a quote from Marx—"The essence of man is the ensemble of social relations."

I hadn't read Marx's works; it was something Adoptive Father had mentioned to me many times, and Gao Xiang had said it too. Before, I had no understanding of that statement, but in that moment, it clicked—although less than half of the people gathered here bore the surname Fang, through their spousal relationships, the other majority with different surnames had also become relatives to me and Adoptive Father. Just as Adoptive Father, surnamed Meng, and I, originally not surnamed Fang, had become relatives to them, spanning three generations, due to our relationship with my "Principal Mother," Fang Jingyu. If one day in the future Adoptive Father were no longer in this world, without a doubt, his large portrait would hang beside "Principal Mother's" on the white wall of the old residence's living room—not only because he was her spouse, but mainly because he had once been a mayor.

But did Adoptive Father's poor relatives from the mountainous regions of Guizhou also count as relatives of relatives? Logically, they should. Yet an undeniable fact would be that Adoptive Father's two categories of relatives would never have the chance to gather together joyfully. My actual relatives from Shenxianding would also never have such an opportunity.

Thus I understood that while humans are the "ensemble of social relations," they are also creatures who filter those social relations. That humans are advanced is clearly demonstrated by this point as well. Therefore, the scale and composition of this "ensemble" vary greatly for different people.As for me, aside from benefiting from the surname of "Principal Mother," I am in every other aspect just an ordinary, common person. However, I am not mediocre; I love to think, and it is this love for thinking that makes me ordinary yet not mediocre. The phrase "I think, therefore I am" is the essence of how I perceive my existence. Gao Xiang once told me that this is what made him particularly fond of me.

At that moment, I once again felt a sense of "harmony" that life could not bear and a complexity that made life difficult to move forward. I said to myself in my heart—Fang Wanzhi, you are destined only to handle a simple life. Constant additions can only make your life more complicated. You are so unskilled and unwilling to utilize your "harmony," so complexity is too complex for you. It would be better to embrace your ordinary, common, and simple life with a calm heart...

Suddenly, enthusiastic applause erupted. My adoptive father stood up amidst the applause, turned around, looked at me, walked up to me, took my hand, and escorted me toward the stage.

It turned out my relatives wanted me to perform.

He whispered to me in front of the stage, "You should also say a few words."

I asked, "Is it necessary?"

He replied, "Aren’t you leaving tomorrow? It wouldn’t be good to leave without saying a few words. Don’t forget, you’re also a host."

I sang a song.

Thanks to Li Juan and Qian Qian, during those days in Shenzhen when we "earned extra money" together, my voice opened up.

I sang well and earned another round of applause.

"Dear every relative..."

What makes relatives relatives is not just blood ties but also the time spent together. I share no blood ties with the guests, nor have I truly spent time with them, so the words "dear" do not come easily to me. If I were to say them, they would not be sincere. But I do respect and love them, and I do not feel estranged from their extraordinariness and uniqueness because of my own ordinariness and commonness. In fact, I hold a reverent respect for anyone who becomes extraordinary and unique through their own talent and effort. The words "respected and beloved" better reflect my true feelings.

The audience fell silent.

I spoke calmly and composedly, "I am ordinary and common. People like me make up the vast majority in China and the world. I am one of over a billion compatriots. Since I was young, my parents taught me that while people may differ in talent and ability, being a good person has nothing to do with talent or ability..."

I saw my adoptive father frozen in place—a half-empty bottle of mineral water sat on the small table, but he stared at me blankly, the straw still in his mouth. I saw my old "uncle" nudge his hand, and only then did he insert the straw into the bottle.

I said, "As a member of our Fang family lineage, I am not ashamed of being ordinary and common, because I have never been lazy due to my ordinariness, nor have I lost my desire to face the sun because of my commonness. Here, I solemnly promise to my relatives that because of relatives like you, I will strive to be a good person without regret, live with dignity in my ordinariness, adhere to the principles of being a good person in my commonness, and add that ordinary, common, and kind '1'—incubated from the Fang family—to the vast denominator of over a billion people..."

I can no longer remember what else I said.

When I stepped off the stage, the silence lingered, and my adoptive father remained seated, still staring at me.As I walked toward my seat, my uncle stood up. The elderly man turned to face the crowd and began clapping vigorously.

My adoptive father also joined in the applause.

Soon, a unified wave of applause filled the room.

Instead of returning to my seat, I ran outside.

That day, the sky was clear and crisp. On the opposite mountaintop, the sunset clouds burned in shades of purple and red, shifting unpredictably, breathtakingly beautiful. Beyond that mountain lay Shenxian Peak—my adoptive father had told me that the Ministry of Radio and Television had pooled funds to erect an antenna tower there, allowing people to watch television with clear signals.

I crossed the street, bought an ice cream, and savored it while admiring the fiery clouds. The reason I had spoken so fluently on stage was because, over the past few days, I had thoroughly contemplated my relationship with my own destiny.

"Humans are the executors of the meanings they give themselves."

I couldn’t recall which book I had read that line in.

I had merely shared the life insights derived from my ordinary, unremarkable "self." Having the chance to express them publicly left me feeling lighthearted. Every bite of the ice cream felt like a treat, its flavor exceptionally delightful.

When I returned to the gathering, my adoptive father was also on stage.

Holding the microphone, he said, "I never expected my relatives to ask me questions at this reunion, but I dare not refuse. First, let me answer the initial question—in the early years after liberation, nine-tenths of China’s population lived in rural areas. When China had a population of 650 million, around 500 million were rural residents. In the 1980s, rural residents still accounted for three-fifths of the population. By the 1990s, it remained the majority. Even today, China’s rural population still outnumbers its urban population. Marx said, 'Man is the sum of his social relations'—so, for the vast majority of Chinese who are now urban dwellers, they still have relatives living in rural areas to varying degrees. While poverty exists in cities as well, rural poverty weighs heavily on the hearts of many Chinese! That’s why China’s focused poverty alleviation efforts in rural areas are also aimed at ensuring peace of mind for many urban Chinese in both their work and lives. Most people cannot remain indifferent or complacent knowing their relatives are still struggling with poverty, as if it were none of their concern! Family-based poverty alleviation can only fulfill personal familial responsibilities; state-led poverty alleviation, no matter how intensified, cannot fully replace familial duties. Therefore, during my tenure as mayor, I always emphasized combining state-led poverty alleviation with family-based efforts. And..."

He hesitated for a moment before adding softly, "Half of the sum of my social relations also bears the surname 'rural,' with the shared name 'poverty.' I cannot split this 'sum' in two and discard the half that troubles me. So, I have always been a dedicated practitioner of family-based poverty alleviation. To go further, I cherish that other half..."

As my adoptive father spoke, his gaze remained fixed on me.

The next morning, my adoptive father hugged me beside the car that would take me away. Though no one else was around, he still whispered, "Daughter, you really surprised me yesterday. But what you said wasn’t entirely wrong."

I felt a little embarrassed. "I just spoke what was on my mind."

He replied, "Of course, you can do that, but your father often cannot. Truth is admirable, but it also depends on who says it, in what context, and to whom."

I said, "So you still think what I said was problematic, don’t you?"He said, "On the contrary, my daughter can be her truest self to the greatest extent possible. I'm happy for you."

I said, "Then give me a score for my performance over these four days."

He said, "Full marks."

My heart filled with joy, and I kissed him on the cheek, only to be seen by County Committee Secretary Xiao.

Secretary Xiao laughed and said, "Haha, such deep affection between father and daughter! I already captured it with my 'foolproof' camera!"

My adoptive father was childishly embarrassed.

I didn’t return to Shenzhen but went to Shanghai instead.

I was going to marry Gao Xiang in Shanghai.