The truth of life

Author: Liang Xiaosheng
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2002-10-01
Features: Liang Xiaosheng is a writer with strong self-reflection. The phrase "understanding self-reflection" holds special significance for contemporary China, and Liang Xiaosheng deeply understands this. Life Truths touches on a wide range of sociocultural topics, such as the archival system, judicial system, charitable causes, urban construction layouts, film and television themes, reading guides, and more, as well as macro-level concerns like terrorism, the Olympic spirit, and global trends—all of which are focal points and hot issues affecting the nation's well-being. Excerpt: Who Stole Love? Who Stole the Mole's Cheese?—It is said that this Western fable, translated into Chinese and published as a small booklet, was quite popular and widely reprinted. It，，。，。Our ancestors taught us this centuries ago. Take, for example, "（）（），," "，," "，，，," "，；，," and so on, and so on, ad infinitum. The meaning is either direct or indirect, but essentially the same. The cheese concept in the two moles' minds is merely a metaphor for the opportunities in life. It seems that an increasing number of people in the world are troubled by the lack of such opportunities. Otherwise, how could such a fable resonate so deeply with people from West to East? From it, I often think—Who stole our love? If this is merely the worry of the overly cautious, not a dilemma faced by contemporary society, then why did the slogan "pursue love to the fullest" arise? From it, my thoughts often leap across time and space, flying as far as Xinjiang, recalling a volunteer soldier, his wife, and their love. I don’t know them; we’ve never met. I’ve only seen them on TV. Without shame, I admit that whenever I think of them, the word "love" blooms a gentle warmth in my heart. The soldier has been in the army for over a decade and looks like his thirties. His slightly gaunt square face is determined and composed, making him seem quite shy. His job is to clear roads. It’s a thousands-of-kilometer-long sandy road, connecting the vast Gobi Desert. Throughout the year, in the soldier’s view, there are no flowers, no trees, not even a blade of green grass. The road is likely a military one. Aside from military vehicles, few other cars pass by. The soldier’s job is to drive a vehicle with a giant plow in front and a massive roller behind, flattening the thousands-of-kilometer-long road year after year, ensuring no. His vehicle alsos a small windowed compartment. When night falls, no matter where his vehicle is, he sleeps in that compartment. That small windowed compartment is the soldier’s "home." In truth, no matter how long he drives, his vehicle never strays from that road. It’s as if a train doesn’t deviate from its tracks. The soldier and his vehicle are as if locked onto that road by digital code. He gets off his vehicle, but there’s no better place for him within hundreds of miles. So, as I see it, he probably rarely gets off his vehicle except to move his legs. Maybe he still has another place to live, like a small earthen house, perhaps even a small courtyard to plant some greenery. But even if he does, most of the year, he has to spend his days on that road, in his vehicle. Including holidays. Solitary, he’s been on that thousands-of-kilometer-long road, in his road-clearing vehicle, for seven or eight years. I saw on TV one day that a military jeep overtook his vehicle. The jeep stopped, and an officer got out, shouting to the soldier, "×××, your wife is visiting you!" Excuse my poor memory for not remembering the soldier’s name. The soldier jumped off his vehicle, and a young woman with an arm around a child and a bundle in her hands appeared before him. She wasn’t particularly beautiful, but she was quite pretty with clear features, her face full of simplicity and kindness. The soldier said, "You’re here!"—his joy was uncontrollable. I think, if there hadn’t been a camera filming them, he would have immediately hugged her and her child, unable to stop kissing her. But she only gave a soft "Hmm" and smiled shyly. Clearly, it was a happiness they had longed for day and night. The officer left some drinks, food, oil, and vegetables, then drove the jeep away in a flash. After the soldier, his wife, and child sat in his vehicle, the soldier proudly said to his son, "Son, I’ve missed you so much! We also have a car, bigger and more spacious, and with air conditioning! Are you happy to ride in dad’s car?" The son said, "I’m happy!" Meanwhile, the soldier’s wife, with her side face fixed intently, gazed at her husband husband with such deep affection. I don’t advocate hardship, nor do I absurdly believe that long-term separation between spouses can better nourish humanity. I think of them only because, from the soldier, I can’t help but reflect—If his job is also his "cheese," then he clearly doesn’t need to be wary. Who would covet a piece of his "cheese" in life? Because he doesn’t need to be cautious, his thoughts would surely be more focused on his beloved wife and loving child. As for love, if it’s diluted, what’s the point of having a large "cheese"? As for the other clever mole, what’s the difference between it and the mole that needs enlightenment? It’s simply this—one guards a piece, while the other hopes to discover, seek, and possess a larger one. Guarding is fine, seeking something new is fine too, but in the end, it’s about "cheese." The clever mole that hops around all day just to find a bigger "cheese" probably doesn’t have time to wholeheartedly love and marry a female mole. Of course, if it does manage to acquire a larger cheese, many female moles will surely circle around it. But they’ll likely be drawn first to its cheese! Besides, by then, it might no longer be young. Moles live much shorter lives than humans! Finally, I’d like to say—People, let the "cheese" philosophy go to hell! It’s purely a commercial philosophy, not a good philosophy for life. Having a piece of your own "cheese" that’s worth settling for, mainly, plus a love that’s even more worth savoring and settling for, is a fine life. Love often has an extraordinary poetic quality in the most ordinary of lives.