My Destiny

October 24, 2020, Saturday—I had already passed my thirty-eighth birthday, the thirty-eighth time in my life that I joyfully encountered both "National Day" and "Mid-Autumn Festival." This kind of joy (including the joy of celebrating my birthday) has been etched in my memory since I was three or four years old.

I believe all festivals, too, exist within the "sum total of social relations," with the only distinction being that people from different countries or ethnic groups celebrate different ones.

Yet, I am going to die.

What I mean is—I might live for a few more years at most, or as little as a few months. It’s even quite possible I won’t make it through 2020.

Nevertheless, whether it was my thirty-eighth birthday, "National Day," or "Mid-Autumn Festival," I celebrated them all with extraordinary joy, entirely describable as "happy." My family and friends "meticulously planned" for this, and I did my best to cooperate with the best possible mood and the finest mental state. "Best" and "finest" refer to what I could actually achieve. My family and friends sorrowfully "rejoiced"; I, in turn, lost myself in "happiness." I was "happy" for their "joy," "happy" for the "best" and "finest" I had managed to achieve. I felt a sense of accomplishment because of my ability to cooperate.

When I was a child, I once watched a Peking opera under the guidance of my Adoptive Father and Adoptive Mother—the title and plot have long been forgotten, but I still remember a few lines sung by an old man who walked with trembling steps:

This old man is seventy-eight,

Like a blade of grass by the roadside,

After the Double Ninth Festival in autumn,

Who knows if I’ll live to see another year...

The old man sang with such sorrow—a sorrow I also carry deep within, one I try to shake off again and again but never can.

Long-lived people in China are becoming more and more numerous. Yet here I am, only thirty-eight, soon to depart from this world...

How deeply I love life!

I love every year, every month, and every day of my ordinary, common life, including the heart-wrenching moments and feelings of helplessness in my thirty-eight years.

After marriage, my life inevitably changed.

The following year, Xiang and I had a son.

After my son turned six months old, my maternity leave ended, and I returned to work at Mingde Company. My son was mainly cared for by my Mother-in-law. Having a grandson delighted her beyond measure; she embraced the role of grandmother with immense happiness, though the responsibility was something she hadn’t anticipated.

Xiang's aunt once said to me: "For a Shanghai woman to be a mother-in-law like my elder sister is your good fortune, Wan Zhi. You should be content."

I am not only content but also grateful.

During the re-election of the Photographers Association, Xiang voluntarily resigned from his position as vice chairman. His explanation was: "I haven’t produced any good work in quite a while. I feel ashamed and should step aside for someone more capable."

But I understood the unspoken consideration—his vice chairmanship was a full-time role that required office hours. His two years in Shenzhen were arranged through a temporary transfer from the Shanghai Federation of Literary and Art Circles, requested by the Shenzhen Municipal Party Committee’s Propaganda Department. Once the transfer period ended, if he didn’t voluntarily resign and continued as the full-time vice chairman, he would struggle to fulfill his responsibilities as a husband, father, and son. He is a filial son and couldn’t bear to watch his elderly mother endure the hardship of raising his son while remaining at ease.

He is also a good husband—my boss is his friend, and he hoped I would be less burdened by household matters and excel at work, so he chose to have more time to share the family responsibilities himself.Of course, there were also financial considerations. With a son, expenses had increased. The child would need to enter daycare and attend school, and without setting aside a sum of money in advance, they would face difficulties when the time came. He had partnered with a photographer friend to open an art photography studio specializing in wedding and maternity photos, which significantly boosted their income.

In the past, his priorities were artistic pursuit first, winning awards for his work first, and then considering income. After having a son, this reversed—income became the priority, with artistic pursuit taking a backseat. Moreover, he adopted an attitude of balancing the two if possible, but if not, it didn’t matter.

Due to his change, there was no shortage of negative gossip about him in the community. Some even published articles in newspapers, criticizing him without naming names. Two sentences in one article particularly wounded him: "Once an artist becomes a captive of money, their second life comes to an end."

He tried his best to "block" me from hearing those negative rumors about him, but as his wife, how could I remain completely unaware? Moreover, those negative rumors had once affected my mood as well.

Once, after drinking, he asked me, "Which is more important: an artist’s artistic life or the growing life of an artist’s son?"

I didn’t know how to answer and could only silently kiss him.

Everyone can only lower their proud heads in the face of reality—I believe that wisely compromising with reality and courageously challenging it are both essential human abilities. Completely denying the former while blindly advocating the latter is a toxic cultural phenomenon because life should not resemble that of a gladiator.

My relationship with Li Juan also changed—after I became a Shenzhen native married into Shanghai, I could no longer "share the same boat" with Juan in Shenzhen. Juan opened another supermarket, and with two supermarkets and a pharmacy, she had enough to worry about, enough to keep her busy, and enough to exhaust her. Simply because I had contributed tens of thousands of yuan as "startup capital" back then, I became a natural "shareholder," receiving "dividends" without lifting a finger. This made me feel ashamed every time I thought about it, yet I didn’t know what to do.

When our son turned one, I received "New Year’s money" sent by Juan according to northeastern customs; I understood it was actually "dividends," but she knew me too well and framed it differently.

"Fifty thousand yuan is far too much, five hundred would already be plenty... don’t you think?" Xiang was clearly very uneasy as well. I could see he already had an idea and was testing my thoughts.

"I feel the same way you do," I said, pouring out my own feelings of guilt.

He said, "Your good friend is someone with only one kidney—we can’t forget that. She’s had it so hard. The three stores are doing well, but that’s entirely the result of her and her brother working tirelessly from dawn to dusk, without holidays or breaks. Our situation is very different from hers. You and I have salaries, and Shanghai is still a city with higher wages compared to the rest of the country. Besides my salary, I have additional income. My mother also has a pension, and she can’t spend it all, managing to save a little each month. But Juan is different. She and her brother still don’t have their own home in Shenzhen, and of course, looking ahead, that’s not sustainable. She also has so many poor relatives in the countryside—we can’t forget that either..."

"Just say what you’re thinking directly, don’t beat around the bush," I grew impatient.

"Withdraw your shares," Xiang’s words left me stunned."I've said this before, and I'll say it again—Juan has a business mind and a bold drive in life, both of which you lack. Honestly, even I lack them. You two shouldn't be tied together like two grasshoppers on the same string. Continuing like that is too unfair to Juan. Every time I hear you two discussing business over the phone, I feel exhausted for her. Cut that string, and she'll fly higher and farther. Grasshoppers don't just hop—they can fly too..."

Xiang really laid it out that day, not sparing my feelings at all, speaking with brutal honesty. "But... if I insist on doing that, she won't be able to handle it..."

"You won't handle this well. If you tell her that, of course she'll get upset with you. If you agree, let me handle it." I had thought of the same idea as Xiang, so I authorized him to "resolve" it.

At the time, there was a printing company in Shenzhen called "Yachang." It was highly skilled and often won international printing awards. The Shanghai Photographers Association wanted to print a collection of outstanding works at "Yachang." Xiang was also friends with the company's owner, Wan Jie, so he volunteered to go to Shenzhen for negotiations—with him involved, they could get a discount, which pleased his superiors, and his leader happily approved the trip.

When Xiang returned from Shenzhen, he had completed both his public and private tasks.

He said he had a good talk with Juan, and I didn’t press him for details. But deep down, I was skeptical. I knew Juan too well—thinking about how she must have felt inside, I’d rather not ask.

Sure enough, that evening, Juan "confronted" me: "Wan Zhi, what do you mean by this? You had Gao Xiang pressure me into taking a stance on this matter. How could I not..." She started crying on the other end of the line in Shenzhen, crying so bitterly that I could even hear her brother trying to comfort her.

"I didn’t pressure her! I’m being wronged!" Xiang, standing beside me, sounded both aggrieved and awkward.

I pushed him aside and spoke loudly into the phone: "Juan, let’s settle this matter once and for all and never bring it up again. Now, listen carefully to what I have to say—first, take advantage of the current housing prices before they rise and buy a place. Even if you have to take out a loan, do it, and try to make it a long-term investment. Second, don’t ignore your personal life—you should still consider it. Third, Xiang speaks very highly of your business skills. You’re fully capable of making your own decisions... You know what I’m trying to say. I have so much hope for you, Juan!" I couldn’t help but tear up as well.

We talked for a long time that night.

Juan was upset because Xiang insisted on withdrawing his shares without taking any profits. They argued fiercely, and in the end, Xiang reluctantly accepted an extra ten thousand yuan.

People often say Shanghainese are meticulous when it comes to money, but my husband isn’t like that. He carries himself with great generosity.

Having a husband like Xiang, I feel grateful for life.

When my son was two years old, Juan opened another clothing store in Shenzhen. After that, she would come to Shanghai at least once or twice a year to personally select clothing for her store. Every time she visited our home, the atmosphere felt like a holiday. She also got to know my mother-in-law, Xiang’s three aunts, and his friends—everyone liked her very much.

Because of her relationship with me, Juan’s "sum" was no longer what it used to be—its "absolute value" had grown.

Proverbs truly are proverbs!

Juan told me—she had followed my advice and taken out loans to buy a sixty-square-meter apartment for herself and another for her brother."Don't worry, the mortgage payments won't be a problem. I've handed the pharmacy over to my brother to manage. He hired a girl who graduated from a traditional Chinese medicine college to help him, so all the paperwork is in order now. I'll pay the mortgage for my apartment, and he'll pay for his. He needs some pressure—what kind of life would a common person have without a little pressure? The girl is from Hunan, and they get along really well. I hope they end up as a couple someday—that would be a relief for me as his older sister."

Juan's words were confident and full of hope.

I was overjoyed and deeply moved—by Juan's love for her disabled brother.

After Juan left that day, Xiang asked me why I seemed so unusually happy. I told him what Juan had said, and he was delighted too, repeatedly saying, "I wish them both well, I wish them both well! You made the right choice by withdrawing your shares, didn'tt you? Otherwise, Juan might not have had the courage to buy the apartment!..."

It was the first time I had heard someone so sincerely wish well for people who were neither relatives nor close friends—and that person was my husband. This made me feel incredibly fortunate—fortunate to have married the right person. In reality, there aren't many people who genuinely wish well for others' lives, especially when they're not related. Though I hadn't experienced much of the world, I was already well aware of this.

Though Juan and I were no longer "two grasshoppers tied to the same rope," our relationship grew even closer.

The year my son turned three, my adoptive father came to Shanghai to visit me. He had completely retired, and this kind of life left him feeling lost and disoriented. He was in an unwilling adjustment period, as if he had suddenly aged mentally. My mother-in-law warmly welcomed my adoptive father's arrival. Whenever she had free time, she would take him out shopping, show him around the city, and even took him to see two movies.

One day, Xiang said to me, "Our lives are about to take a new turn."

I was taken aback and asked whether it was a good turn or a bad one.

He beat around the bush, saying, "It's hard to say. Different people have different feelings about the same situation."

I grew anxious and urged him to get straight to the point. I was quite satisfied with our life at the time and feared any unfavorable changes.

Xiang then said bluntly, "My mom has developed feelings for your dad... a late-life romance."

I was speechless, unable to utter a word.

"After all, your dad was once a mayor and a university graduate from back in the day. If he sets his sights too high and my mom ends up with 'unrequited love,' and her self-esteem is hurt because of your dad, then as her son, I'd feel terrible for her..." Xiang spoke with deep sorrow, as if it were already a fact.

"But... but... even if my dad feels the same way, would that... be okay?..."

It took me several attempts before I could speak. Though it wasn't necessarily a bad situation, it was still shocking to me.

"If the feelings are mutual, then it's just a matter of our attitudes. What's your take on it?"

We were having dinner at the time. Xiang stopped eating and even moved the dishes away from me, as if he wouldn't let me finish the meal if our attitudes clashed.

"You go first."

I had no choice but to put down my bowl.

Xiang insisted, "No, you go first."

I said, "What will others think?"

"Don't worry about what others think for now."

I replied tactfully, "Then let nature take its course."

"What kind of attitude is that? It's like having no attitude at all."

I had no choice but to be direct again. "It would be nice if it worked out. My dad would gain a son, and I would be both a daughter-in-law and a daughter..." I couldn't help but laugh.Xiang said, "Be serious, are you speaking from the heart?"

I replied, "In front of a true friend, I speak only the truth..."

Xiang interrupted, "That's exactly what I wanted to hear!"

He got up to fetch some beer, poured two glasses, and asked me to clink glasses with him.

I asked, "Are we celebrating already?"

He said, "Toasting your dad and my mom."

I said, "We still don’t know if the flowing water truly has any intention."

He replied, "Let’s not worry about that for now. As long as we’re on the same page, we can give them a little push! Cheers! Wait, let’s do it again—for your dad and my mom’s happiness in their later years, we should drink a cross-cupped toast!"

After getting into bed, that topic became our main focus. Xiang shared stories about his mother, and I talked about my father; occasionally, we also mentioned his "Librarian father" and my "Principal Mother." Far from feeling any guilt toward our respective parents, we felt a sense of comfort. It was as if, once this great task was accomplished, we would have fulfilled the unspoken wishes of our deceased parents—no, not "as if," it truly was that way.

Once our thoughts were aligned, even our intimate moments were filled with passion.

In reality, the role we played was only minor—just a gentle nudge. A few days before my Adoptive Father decided to return, while chatting together at my Mother-in-law’s place, I seized the opportunity according to our "established plan" and said, "Dad, my Mother-in-law has worked tirelessly taking care of Xiang’s and my child. How about you accompany her back to our hometown in Yu County for a few days, show her around, and let her relax a bit?"

My Adoptive Father looked at my Mother-in-law and said, "Sure, as long as she’s willing, I guarantee I’ll complete the task."

My Mother-in-law blushed like a little girl, lowered her head, and whispered, "I’m willing, how could I not be? It’s just..."

Xiang quickly added, "Don’t worry about that—I’ll take care of picking up and dropping off the child!"

Mother-in-law looked at my Adoptive Father, her eyes filled with affection, and asked, "So, can we settle on it?"

My Adoptive Father solemnly promised, "It’s settled."

As a result, my Adoptive Father and Mother-in-law left Shanghai two days earlier than planned—clearly, they couldn’t wait. Xiang and I believed that they had already been in sync for a long time, only needing someone to give them a gentle push. Neither of them expected that push to come from their children, but it all fell into place naturally.

After Mother-in-law returned to Shanghai from Yu County, she seemed ten years younger, with happiness often written on her face.

A few months later, my Adoptive Father and Mother-in-law obtained their marriage certificate. They didn’t hold a wedding ceremony, only inviting a few close relatives and friends to a celebratory meal.

My worries were unnecessary. Everyone who knew about it said in Shanghainese that it was "a very, very good thing," and I didn’t hear a single negative comment.

My Adoptive Father became cheerful again, regaining his sense of humor. He also started paying attention to his appearance once more.

Once my Shanghai mother remarried, she became even better at being a doting wife than younger women, making me feel inadequate in comparison; and I often noticed how much my Adoptive Father enjoyed that.

Xiang once said, "Darling, you should learn from my mom. The role model is right beside you—why not learn humbly?"

I imitated Mother-in-law’s manner and tone, saying, "I need time to learn, you know!"That year, something utterly astonishing happened on Juan’s end as well—first, during a phone call with me, she mentioned that Brother Zhang Jiagui had been diagnosed with cerebellar atrophy. The call was mainly about other matters, and Juan only mentioned it in passing, sounding as though she didn’t take it too seriously at the time. Like Juan, I regarded Brother Zhang as a benefactor. Though Juan didn’t dwell on it, it caught my attention. After the call, I asked Xiang whether it was serious. Xiang said that at Brother Zhang’s age, a confirmed case of cerebellar atrophy wasn’t necessarily cause for alarm. Many people experience some degree of cerebellar shrinkage after turning fifty. Xiang was quite knowledgeable in many areas, so hearing him say that put my mind at ease.

More than three months later, Juan called me again and blurted out right away, “Wan Zhi, I got married.”

It was so sudden!

I was stunned for a few seconds before snapping back to reality, reproaching her with displeasure, “You really kept it a secret, didn’t you? Who is it?”

Juan said, “Brother Zhang.”

I was stunned for another few seconds.

“Zhang Jiagui.”

This time, I was stunned for more than just a few seconds.

Brother Zhang was twenty-six years older than Juan, nearly sixty!

On the other end of the phone, Juan added that Brother Zhang’s condition had progressed extremely rapidly. He was already unsteady on his feet, something even the doctors hadn’t anticipated. And there was basically nothing they could do about it.

Juan said, “At that rate, he’ll be completely incapacitated in a year or two.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Juan said, “He’s a good man.”

I was still speechless.

Juan said, “I want him to live as a husband for a year or two before he becomes incapacitated.”

“…”

“You and Xiang are both busy, and you have a child now. Please don’t come over. In a few days, I’m going to hold a wedding for us, the kind where the bride wears a wedding dress. Could you send me a congratulatory message on behalf of Gao Xiang? I want someone to read it at the wedding.”

“Okay,” I finally managed to utter a single word.

After hanging up, I recounted Juan’s words to Xiang.

Xiang said, “Ah, Brother Zhang is so unfortunate, but what Juan is doing is so like her! Forget the congratulatory message—one of us has to go!”

I hesitated and said, “What if both of us go?”

Xiang replied without hesitation, “Good, let’s both go!”

Coincidentally, my adoptive father had come to Shanghai again. When he found out, he volunteered, “Li Juan is a good girl. I’ll go too.”

So I became the maid of honor, Xiang became the officiant, and my adoptive father represented our family of five in expressing heartfelt blessings. His speech was fine in itself—starting from the gratifying and rapid development of a new city, to the commendable entrepreneurial spirit of young people in Shenzhen, and then to the controllability of life, all fitting his identity perfectly. What surprised me was that he even talked about his late-life union with my mother-in-law! Probably because he hadn’t spoken on stage in a long time, once he started, he couldn’t stop. Nevertheless, he received warm applause. Juan couldn’t help but hug him, and Brother Zhang shed tears, bowing deeply to him.

Later, I complained to Xiang, “Dad shouldn’t have talked about our family’s affairs. It wasn’t necessary.”

But Xiang said, “I don’t think it was a bad thing. By sharing his own experience and expressing understanding, he meant to shield Juan and Brother Zhang from potential gossip. Dad had good intentions.”

Not long after, I received a letter from Second Sister.I had no correspondence or phone calls with Second Sister. Yet I still kept my promise, regularly sending money to her son Zhao Kai—he had been admitted to a university within the province, his expenses had increased, and so had the amount I sent him.

Second Sister must have learned my home address in Shanghai from him.

Second Sister’s letter was dripping with venom. Apart from avoiding outright profanity, she employed every possible curse imaginable.

It turned out that Second Sister had never completely given up on her affair with Brother Zhang and still hoped that one day I would suddenly convey to her the good news she had long dreamed of. A person's stubborn obsession with something that was entirely one-sided was beyond my comprehension. Now, to make matters worse, not only had I failed to help her realize her dream, but I had also "matched" my best girlfriend with Zhang Jiagui, turning them into a married couple. My husband, my adoptive father, and I had all gone to Shenzhen to attend the wedding, which was an enormous blow to her. Putting myself in her shoes, how could she possibly endure it? If I hadn't "matched" them, would Li Juan, who already owned three stores, have married Zhang Jiagui, who was twenty-six years older than her? Wasn't it all about relying on Zhang Jiagui as a boss?—It wasn’t hard to see from the letter that these thoughts had filled my second sister with despair and anger.

That letter also made me extremely angry.

I could put myself in her shoes, but I couldn’t help feeling furious.

Xiang saw me trembling with anger and took the letter to read it himself.

He asked in surprise, "How did your second sister find out so quickly?"

I told him that people from Yu County had a hometown association in Shenzhen.

"How can there be someone like your second sister in this world? Has she forgotten that we’re still paying for her son’s university education?" Xiang tore the letter to pieces.

I said, "It seems I can’t go back to Shenxianding anymore."

"Then don’t go back! What’s the worst that could happen if we never go back? Can’t our lives go on?!" Xiang angrily slammed the table.

I secretly made up my mind to stop sending money to Zhao Kai. However, when the day came to send the money, I found myself going to the post office again.

Sometimes, responsibility also has the characteristics of an obsession.

When my son was four years old, I had already worked at Mingde Company for exactly four years. During those four years, my salary had increased by three hundred yuan. Although it wasn’t much, it was still an encouragement and affirmation of my work performance. Over those four years, I had also accumulated a lot of work experience and had developed the ability to handle things independently.

The special relationship between my husband and my boss was based on this incident—Mr. Geng was an enthusiast of self-driving tours, and so was my husband. The only difference was that Mr. Geng drove a luxury car, while my husband often rented motorcycles.

Even luxury cars aren’t immune to breakdowns. In Tibet, Mr. Geng’s luxury car overturned while crossing a shallow river, and he sprained his ankle. Xiang happened to be riding his motorcycle past that spot and, in two trips, carried Mr. Geng and his wife to a nearby Tibetan home. However, since I started working at Mingde Company, the two of them hadn’t met again because Mr. Geng was someone who "flew" all over the world, only coming to Shanghai once or twice a year. He came and went in a hurry. Still, every Chinese New Year, our home would receive a New Year’s card and a gift from Mr. Geng; Xiang would reciprocate in the same way. They didn’t communicate by phone. Or, if they did, I wouldn’t know about it.

One day, the office informed me that Mr. Geng wanted to see me in the afternoon.

"One of the important things I came to Shanghai for this time was to have a talk with you," Mr. Geng said as soon as I sat down.

He asked me if I remembered that when he transferred me to the investment department years ago, he had said that I would understand the reason later?

I didn’t remember, but I said I did.

"Well then, take a look at this first."He gave me a business proposal—I never expected him to know so much about Guizhou, even aware that there was a mountainous area called Shenxianding in the province! Shenxianding shares similar altitude and climate with Taiwan's high mountain regions. Although it is not coastal, it is the most suitable location on the mainland for cultivating Taiwan's high mountain tea due to its humidity. He plans to transplant high mountain tea to Shenxianding and cultivate a new variety. He said his wife is from Guizhou, and investing in poverty alleviation there has long been her wish, as well as a crucial task he must accomplish in his lifetime.

"Previously, my wife and I considered ourselves Taiwanese first and Chinese second. Now, we see ourselves as Chinese first and Taiwanese second. China's development achievements have attracted worldwide attention, and we are delighted for the mainland. I’ve even thought of a name for the new tea—the future trademark will bear these words: 'China’s New Tea: Noble Red' and 'Noble Green.' Doesn’t that sound delightful? In fact, I’ve been keeping an eye on your work progress. I believe you are now fully capable of taking on the role of project manager, and no one is more suited to realize this project than you. You have advantages others lack—you are from Yu County; your Fang family has a good reputation there; your father once served as mayor of Linjiang City, and your network of connections can be fully utilized! So, I want to personally entrust this project to you and hope you won’t decline for any reason. Let’s settle this matter right now, shall we?"

My first thought was of my dreadful second sister. Yes, I had already begun to find my second sister somewhat frightening.

But Mr. Geng’s words deeply moved me.

I replied firmly, "Alright."

I was knowingly walking into the tiger’s den.

My husband, mother-in-law, and adoptive father all supported me unanimously. Juan also encouraged me. My family and friends were all delighted that I finally had the opportunity to take on such an important responsibility.

Unexpectedly, on my very first day back at Shenxianding, I encountered my second sister. At the time, several local officials were accompanying me on a survey of the mountainous area. My second sister had learned of my arrival in advance and stood blocking our path with her hands on her hips: "Fang Wanzhi! You shameless wretch who cares more for outsiders than your own flesh and blood, how dare you show your face back at Shenxianding? Why must you ruin my plans? If it weren’t for you, I would be the boss’s wife now! My son wouldn’t have to rely on the filthy money you send him anymore!…"

That day, I witnessed the true face of a shrew.

I trembled with anger once again, but not to the point of being speechless. I retorted righteously: "He Xiaoju! Every cent I’ve sent to Zhao Kai was saved from my salary, and it’s all clean money! If you think he no longer needs it, I’ll stop sending it from now on…"

"Stop sending it? How dare you! It would have been fine if you hadn’t sent it before, but now you want to stop? Too late! Who told you to ruin my plans and cut off my source of income? If you stop sending money, I’ll go to Shanghai and tarnish your reputation! I’ll make sure everyone in Shanghai knows you’ve been involved with Zhang Jiagui for a long time! You arranged things just to please him…" She grew increasingly reckless with her accusations.

The local officials could no longer stand by and listen, stepping forward one after another to criticize her. Whoever criticized her, she cursed in return. We had no choice but to turn around and take another path. Yet she refused to let it go, running a few steps to catch up and continuing to block and curse us.

Suddenly, a savior descended from the heavens. It was none other than my eldest sister, He Xiaoqin.

Without saying a word, He Xiaoqin swung her arm and slapped He Xiaoju hard across the face.

He Xiaoju was stunned by the slap.Before she could even throw a tantrum, He Xiaoqin slapped her again. Then, crouching down, she charged headfirst into her, sending her stumbling backward until she landed on the ground with a thud.

Strangely enough, after He Xiaoju got up, she didn’t dare look my eldest sister in the eye. Instead, she dusted off the back of her clothes as if she had simply tripped, then turned and walked away sullenly.

My eldest sister said to me, “Wan Zhi, our He family has put you through too much…”

I hugged my eldest sister and cried.

At my eldest sister’s home, Eldest Sister’s Husband sighed and said, “Wan Zhi, oh Wan Zhi, why is your fate so harsh? Look at your eldest sister—her life has improved, her son is doing well, our hometown has changed for the better, and her illness has healed. But your second sister, I think she was traumatized by what happened with your second brother-in-law, and now she’s gone mad too. One sister who was once mad has recovered, while another who was always normal has gone mad. What deity has your He family offended to bring this upon you? Don’t come back anymore, listen to me. Never come back again, and cut all ties with Shenxianding!”

My eldest sister also calmly said, “Listen to your brother-in-law. He’s right. Never come back. If I miss you, I’ll visit you in the future.”

But the township officials grew anxious. They all opposed what my eldest sister and brother-in-law said, believing I had a responsibility to Shenxianding and must return regularly. Otherwise, what if such a promising big project slipped away?

Accompanying me on inspections, meetings, and research trips were not only township officials but also cadres from the county agricultural bureau and poverty alleviation office. Afraid of running into my second sister again and causing embarrassment for everyone, they sent people ahead to guard the gate of my second sister’s house, forbidding her from leaving the courtyard. It was a last resort—what else could be done? As a result, the county disciplinary commission, public security bureau, court, newspapers, and radio stations frequently received my second sister’s letters of complaint, accusing me of colluding with officials at all levels to persecute her.

Some said my second sister was genuinely mentally disturbed, while others claimed she was faking it to fraudulently obtain subsistence allowances. Whether it was real or fake, I became infamous because of her.

The process of accomplishing something good often comes with vulgar and ugly episodes. Sometimes only a few necessary people accompanied me, but when it came time to eat, a dozen or more would suddenly show up, filling more than two tables. Moreover, they took me to increasingly upscale restaurants, serving alcohol at every meal.

Many Chinese people treat freeloading and drinking as one of life’s greatest pleasures!

I also began to experience the schemes of bribery and disguised bribery. If money wasn’t “greased,” it seemed certain stamps would never be approved. Of course, I had a sum of project startup funds at my disposal, but if I spent it that way, it would greatly dampen my enthusiasm for the work.

The disciplinary commissions at various levels also received my real-name complaint letters. As a result, some cadres were disciplined, and others were dismissed. And I, in turn, made enemies.

At that time in China, although WeChat was not yet widespread, online information was already overwhelming, and the “self-media” phenomenon had taken hold. Among the rumors attacking me, the most shameless and vicious one was that I had long maintained an “ambiguous relationship” with my adoptive father, which was essentially an insinuation of “incest.” A photo of me kissing my adoptive father from years ago went viral online, followed by a flood of vile and obscene comments.

My adoptive father was the kind of person who adhered strictly to the principle of “keeping oneself as flawless as jade.” Although he had endured various trials in the political arena, he had never faced such despicable humiliation before.His transformation convinced me that "turning white overnight" was no mere exaggeration. Fortunately, he possessed immense psychological resilience.

My mother-in-law was also an exceptionally rational woman, able to face that incident with remarkable composure. Xiang had been furious—he had thrown things and cursed at home—but afterward, he felt deeply for me, comforting me and lamenting his inability to become a shield strong enough to protect me.

That attack could indeed have plunged a family with strained relationships into a crisis of mutual suspicion, ultimately leading to its dissolution.

I thank fate—I have a family with strong bonds, and the incident only brought my loved ones closer.

To escape the suffocating mood that felt like swarms of mosquitoes turning into thunder, Xiang traveled to Inner Mongolia that winter. For fifteen years, he had been documenting the growth of a pair of Mongolian twin sisters—a major project of his. His trip to Inner Mongolia was also driven by his unwavering artistic passion.

But he went missing for an entire day during a sudden blizzard.

That day, I was far away at Immortal Peak.

That day, I suffered a mental breakdown.

That day, my mother-in-law suffered a sudden heart attack and was hospitalized; my white-haired adoptive father acted as her "caregiver."

That day, three other families went into emergency mode—Xiang's aunt promptly took my son to her home; my eldest and second aunts gathered funds and rushed to the hospital to assist with care and complete the admission procedures; my eldest and second uncles bought plane tickets and traveled to Inner Mongolia.

What it means to be family was once again demonstrated by reality.

Xiang's survival skills saved his life—he found a slope, quickly dug out a snow cave with his hands, and huddled inside with his horse. But it was Mr. Geng who truly ensured their survival. He had spoken with Xiang that day and grew concerned about the blizzard in Inner Mongolia. Losing contact with Xiang made him realize the severity of the situation, so he rented a helicopter in Inner Mongolia in the company's name. The next morning, Xiang's eldest and second uncles spotted him from the helicopter.

Xiang suffered severe frostbite and worried that his face would be permanently disfigured and that his hands would no longer be able to hold a camera. Even the most optimistic man can fall into unprecedented pessimism at times.

As his wife, I had no choice but to step into the role of his psychologist—like forcing a duck onto a perch, I had to do it. What else could I do? During that period, I read many psychology books and believed I performed this cross-boundary role quite well, gaining a deeper understanding of what "sharing joys and sorrows" truly means between husband and wife.

People at the company speculated that the boss's actions were a reward for my work ethic—even in the face of a disastrous predicament, I never gave up, which earned his respect. But I knew the boss's noble act was also a repayment to my husband.

I could not give up.

A cause that benefits poverty alleviation, no matter how difficult, must be pursued.

To abandon it now would only turn it into a joke.

I faced a massive pane of glass, polished to a pristine clarity. On either side hung snow-white curtains—on this side were me and two caregivers; on the other side were my husband, whose face still bore scars, my white-haired adoptive father, and my mother-in-law wearing light makeup. Between my mother-in-law and adoptive father stood a handsome boy—my and Xiang's son.

The cancer cells had spread again within my body, and I had to undergo a third surgery.My loved ones watched me through the glass, making victory signs and cheering me on.

I looked back at them, feeling the preciousness of family bonds and the strength they gave me.

Juan had rushed over from Shenzhen, holding up her three-year-old daughter for me to see.

I smiled.

Brother Zhang was no longer here—that child was his and Juan’s.

Juan had taken over the transport company. She was already a member of the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference in a district of Shenzhen and served as the vice president of the district’s chamber of commerce. Just as Xiang had foreseen, she possessed boundless business potential, managing her affairs—no, it should be called her career—methodically and with great success.

My nephew, young Zhao Kai, also appeared.

I hadn’t expected his arrival.

Due to his mother’s resentment toward me, my relationship with this nephew had once been quite strained.

When I went to Shenxianding after my second surgery, we met once in the room I stayed in at the township guesthouse, with my adoptive father present.

He was already working at the time and had returned home to spend the Spring Festival with his mother.

I asked him what kind of work he was doing.

He said he was a “chief writer” at a website and showed me a few articles he was quite proud of.

After reading them, I was far from impressed. I pointed out that they weren’t articles in any meaningful sense but rather personal attacks that seized on minor points while ignoring the bigger picture, even taking things out of context. I said this because I had a deep, personal understanding of the pain caused by such attacks.

He asked, “Do you see me as a troll?”

I replied, “You can interpret it that way.”

He then asked, “What’s the difference between a troll and a critic?”

I said, “I can’t explain it clearly in just a few words, but they are definitely different kinds of people.”

He said, “Anything that can’t be explained clearly has no difference. I want to be a ‘famous troll,’ the kind that qualifies as a satirist, one with extremely high professional standards.”

I disliked this even more and frowned. “There has never been a profession called ‘satirist’ in the world, nor will there ever be a professional troll. What kind of ridiculous profession is that?”

He also disliked what he heard and lowered his head.

I spoke earnestly, “Zhao Kai, find a proper job!”

He suddenly raised his head and retorted resentfully, “What’s improper about my job? I earn two thousand yuan for a thousand-word article—two yuan per word. This is the highest-paying job I’ve ever had. I’ve found a good rhythm, and I already feel a sense of accomplishment!”

I was left speechless for a moment.

My adoptive father, who had also finished reading his proud articles, chimed in, “Child, your aunt is right. Being employed to praise one person today and smear another tomorrow will make you lose yourself in the long run. It really can’t be considered a proper job…”

He abruptly turned to my adoptive father and said coldly, “Do you know how hard it is to find a job that pays a little more? Am I a graduate of a ‘211’ university? Am I a ‘985’ graduate? Does earning a little more mean losing myself? Does earning less mean having a self? What job isn’t being employed by someone? What exists is reasonable…”

My white-haired adoptive father’s face flushed with embarrassment—no one had ever spoken to him like that in front of me.

I couldn’t help but scold, “How dare you!”

Zhao Kai lowered his head again, clearly still resentful inside.

I said, “I’m tired. You should leave.”

My adoptive father added, “Yes, your aunt had her second surgery two months ago. You know that…”

But he said, “I didn’t just come to see her. I still have something important to discuss.”

I had no choice but to ask him, “What important matter?”He stammered about wanting to borrow one hundred thousand yuan from me, saying that the website was restructuring its shares, and if he could invest one hundred thousand, he would become a minor shareholder.

"What's one hundred thousand to you? Auntie, please help me out one more time!..." He grabbed one of my hands with both of his.

I pulled my hand away and said sternly, "One hundred thousand is almost my entire year's salary. My husband and I are both salaried workers. Our family isn't wealthy, and I don't have money to lend you for shares."

"Auntie, do you really expect me to believe you're poor?" He sneered.

I said to my adoptive father, "Dad, please say that word for me."

Adoptive Father said, "Daughter, I can't."

I had to say the word myself: "Get out."

He froze for a moment, then stood up and left. He paused at the door, his back to me, and said, "Fang Wanzhi, I'll pay back all the money you sent me, with interest."

After he left, I asked my adoptive father, "Dad, does the saying 'bad people grow old' also mean that some people have been bad since they were young?"

Adoptive Father pondered for a long time, patted my shoulder, and walked out as well—I looked out the window and saw him taking deep drags from a cigarette.

Later, he said he had written a letter to Zhao Kai on my behalf.

"Dad, some things are unnecessary." That was all I said, too lazy to ask how he had written it or to say anything else.

...

Zhao Kai's appearance left me with mixed feelings. It felt unnatural to look at him, but also unnatural not to.

Yet he stared at me intently—holding up an A4 sheet of paper with two lines written in bold: "Auntie, I've changed jobs!"

I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.

A nurse pointed gently at a door and said softly, "Fang Wanzhi, it's time for us to go in."

Another nurse immediately went to draw the curtains.

I quickly said, "Dear sisters, please, just a few more minutes."

Just then, two soldiers hurried in from outside, a man and a woman—the man was Yang Hui, now a second officer; the woman was his wife, a military doctor. They also had a son, who by family hierarchy should call me "Great-Aunt." I had met him before—clever and polite, sure to grow into a well-mannered young man.

As soon as they appeared, the other relatives stepped aside; because they had arrived late, they ended up occupying the central position. Together, they saluted me.

I smiled for the third time. And I cried.

The electric curtains slowly closed—the glass wall was like a wide screen, and I felt as if I were lying on a gurney watching a movie.

I was wheeled into the operating room.

I love life, I cherish living.

I am ordinary, I am common, and the one thing I have done most successfully is this—I have made Taiwan high-mountain tea flourish across the slopes of Guizhou's Shenxianding—"Noble Red" and "Noble Green" have already entered the international market and are quite popular.

I don't want to deny that I am unfortunate, having undergone three cancer removal surgeries before even turning forty—that is certainly misfortune. But I have always denied that my cancer was caused by anger—perhaps that aligns with pathology and some of the facts. Yet I prefer to believe it is simply my fate.

When things happen to oneself, it is better to look for reasons within. Thinking this way helps me face reality with peace of mind and also benefits me in overcoming cancer once again.

One thing is certain: I will not die on the operating table.

How much longer can I live after the surgery? I no longer dwell on that question. And precisely because I stopped dwelling on it, I inadvertently became an "anti-cancer star"—the only "honor" I've received as I approach forty. I don't truly feel proud of this "laurel," and I harbor doubts about whether one can truly "fight cancer." It's simply about not sinking into the mire of self-pity and negative emotions. My experience is this—when a person can genuinely face "bad fate" with calmness and composure, even the god of fate will look at them with newfound respect. If there is indeed a god of fate, their work is nothing more than a computer-like task, an automatic locking of some mysterious program. Even if they participated in designing that program, I doubt they can control every "lottery result." So, I also adopt an attitude of "long live understanding" toward the "work" of the god of fate. But since I am already a "star," I have also done some things a "star" should do—I established cancer patient support websites in Shanghai and Shenzhen and served as the editor-in-chief of a grassroots publication called Dancing with Cancer, which is quite popular among cancer patients.

The ultraviolet lamp hasn't been switched on yet; the doctors and nurses are making final preparations for the surgery. Their movements are so light they are almost soundless. Whenever someone glances at me, their eyes crinkle. If not for the masks, I would see friendly smiles. I am somewhat special in their eyes; they respect me.

Taking advantage of that brief moment, I begin to think again. A person under general anesthesia is essentially "dead." If they never wake up, that kind of death would be nothing short of a blessing. Thinking on the operating table is like holding a dialogue with oneself at the boundary between life and death—I think, therefore I am. Not everyone has such opportunities multiple times, and I cherish them.

I believe I am also fortunate.

My adoptive parents and my husband are all people who enjoy thinking. Influenced by them, I too find joy in contemplation. I love thinking more than other women love fashion and makeup.

I hope that in the future China, most children will have mothers like my adoptive mother—not in terms of her family background, how could that be possible? Nor in terms of being a local celebrity like her, which is equally like a fantasy; but in terms of having a heart as kind as hers. This is as easy as breathing, yet truly achieving it is not simple.

"Bad people growing old" also means that some people become bad when they are young.

Then—what about children? Lu Xun's words, "Save the children," could perhaps be changed to "Save the parents first"?

I hope that in the future China, young people won't need to have a father who was a mayor or a mother who is a celebrity like me to feel that their lives are safeguarded by a sense of security.

I hope that in the future China, there will be more and more Li Juans.

China still has nearly half of its population in rural areas—they are the compatriots with monthly incomes around a thousand yuan. Among those who have already become urban residents, many were living in rural areas just yesterday or the day before—this makes the sum of social relationships for the vast majority of Chinese people complex rather than simple.

I wholeheartedly support comprehensive poverty alleviation in rural areas.

I have witnessed the sum of social relationships for many compatriots undergoing quantitative and qualitative changes for the better.

I have witnessed "clear waters and green mountains are as valuable as gold and silver mountains" gradually becoming a reality; Shenxianding is part of that reality.

I do not believe there is a "Land of Gentlemen" in this world, which keeps me from living pretentiously; I do not believe that "others are hell," which keeps me from living cunningly.I am ordinary, I am common, I live earnestly, and I am resilient enough. I have the fortune of a happy country, the warmth of family, and the sincerity of friendship—I possess all three of life's greatest blessings. What more could I ask for? What more could I desire?

The anesthesiologist began applying iodine to my arm.

I started silently reciting a poem I love:

I came with veins exposed,

Singing the last autumn song,

A fallen leaf cradling a palmful of blood,

I shall return

To the land where I first sprouted,

...

The needle pierced the vein, and a chill spread through my bloodstream.

I closed my eyes.

"Fang Wanzhi, let's start counting now."

It sounded like the voice of an angel.

I didn't count. Instead, I continued reciting the poem:

The stream's water flows gently,

And I, like a small boat

Laden with love,

Hum softly along the way,

Arriving before the world

...

I embrace...

I forgive...

I become myself...

October 13, 2020, Beijing