Always possess

Author: Hong Feng (Compiler)
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2001-01-01
Features: For a long time, I believed I was a strong person. Events seemed to continuously reinforce this feeling, making it a definite part of my personality. Many people, including those I loved, said I was rational to the point of being cold, that my strength had crossed the line and become unreasonable, which caused me much suffering and cost me many friends. However, I am certain that everyone has their own way of living, and my conviction is not the bad kind. This judgment gave me confidence in life. In the winter of 1992, my confidence began to wane, and by the spring of 1993, it had almost vanished. I experienced many things, and almost every one made me feel that the times were moving too fast. My state of mind was like that of the old woman from the story, who said, "Each generation is worse than the last." I didn’t want the old woman to find a companion in her grave. I strived to evaluate the times objectively and adapt to them as much as possible, even praising them. Love couldn’t even be praised anymore, which was disheartening. This must come from an inner feeling and apply only to the individual. The meaning of being a modern person is that one must first learn to adapt, which aligns with existentialist ideas and converges with the theory of evolution. I wanted to be a qualified modern person. I was ready to give up writing and take up business, ready to juggle multiple roles, and had to earn more money to support my son’s education—getting into a good school would cost at least 10,000 yuan; buying a house: the lowest price would be 100,000 yuan; traveling by car—the cost of tickets now included an extra insurance fee, an additional "station construction fee" of one yuan at Changchun Station, and the construction fee at Beijing Capital Airport had risen to 15 yuan. In fact, I was just thinking. I preferred to think more and do less—or not do at all—which complemented my laziness. Few people could experience the joy of thinking like this; it was similar to how you feel when you like an advertising celebrity: exhilarating yet requiring no effort. Of course, the wonderful feeling was that it was just fine. One night in February, I drank and talked with Zhang Ying at a small restaurant. I no longer remembered what we discussed, it didn’t matter; we just wanted to talk. Zhang Ying was an excellent editor, it didn’t matter; he was someone I trusted. I must have talked a lot, and as I left the restaurant, I felt the asphalt road was soft, sparking my imagination. We were both people who didn’t easily show their inner feelings, which made our farewell as ordinary as water. I extended my hand, but Zhang Ying wasn’t prepared. In that moment, he was clumsy like a country bumpkin: his palm was facing outward. I only touched the back of his hand and quickly pulled back, saying, "Call me." "Ah," he replied. That night was definitely not the beginning of my confidence returning, but it became an opportunity. I shared many of my feelings over the past year with my friend, and he shared his too. Gradually, I felt that I wasn’t alone, and that was very important to me. I knew I would continue writing novels, and with more passion than ever before; I would also read more, and with more passion than ever before. Of course, I had a lot of free time, and I would still think about trains, airplanes, houses, women, and money; think about America; think about war and love; think about peace and violence. And there were things I did while thinking, which everyone knew.