Crows want to kiss their loved ones

Author: Duan Jian
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-11-01
Features: People must have something to live for. What is the "ambition" of a crow? Every company needs a spiritual leader like Liu Bei or Song Jiang. Does your company have one? A person is not just a person, but also a resource. If you don't make full use of these resources, you will only become someone else's tool! You may have heard of "Dragon Totem," "Eagle Totem," "Snake Totem," "Bear Totem," and "Wolf Totem," but have you heard of the "Crow Totem"? People are often taken advantage of for their kindness, and horses are ridden by others. What about the kindness of a crow? It leads to success in one's career and beautiful love! The novel "Crow Wants a Love" (originally titled "Shanghai Blind Date Lover") was widely reprinted online and sparked a huge response from readers. The comments from netizens covered a wide range of topics, from blind dates to the workplace, from the personal struggles of working-class individuals to sudden love in modern urban careers, from personal entrepreneurship to corporate development, and even to various phenomena in today's society, going beyond the scope of a single novel. Many of the issues discussed in the book seem to be a microcosm of this era!
1. The Story of Blind Dating
In the spring of 2004, it was the first spring after the SARS epidemic. People could finally take off their masks and enjoy the fresh air of spring, getting close to each other. Facing such a spring, I, however, began to feel troubled. Because I had seen somewhere that people must have something to live for. This phrase had been haunting me, and every time I went to sleep, I would dream about asking myself, "Do you have something to live for?" I couldn't answer this question myself. Every time I thought about it, my heart would twitch. I realized that since my life had become comfortable, sleeping in on weekends, chatting with pretty girls online, and window shopping had become my greatest "ambitions." This kind of ambition itself wasn't the source of my trouble, but rather the fact that the pretty girls I chatted with and the beautiful women I watched never became a part of my life. Instead, all my time outside of my 8 hours of work was endlessly occupied.
This was another Saturday, and another morning after I had stayed up all night chatting with pretty girls online. I was enjoying my happy moment of sleeping in, but my bedside phone rang and woke me up. The first thought that came to my mind when I picked up the phone was to curse myself: "Damn it, why did I forget to unplug the phone line last night?" While cursing myself, I still greeted the caller with a polite "Hello." When the person on the other end spoke, I was relieved that my polite greeting had been appropriate. The caller was a 53.5-year-old man, a rather special figure—he was the General Manager of our company.
When it came to blind dates, I got a bit angry. Since graduating from university in 2000 and moving to Shanghai, perhaps because I seemed a bit too honest, I had been set up on blind dates by various people—either the landlords' aunts who rented to me or my colleagues' aunts. By 2004, I had carefully calculated that I had rented apartments 5 times and gone on blind dates 21 times. The aunts who introduced me to girlfriends were, on average, 53.5 years old. However, after 21 blind dates, my life hadn't changed at all. From 2000, when I was 22, to 2004, when I was 26, I was still living the lonely life of a bachelor.
I remember the first time I went on a blind date, I still had beautiful fantasies about it. I often say that things don't go beyond three—when they do, trouble follows. It turned out to be true. After the third blind date, I had completely lost faith in the matchmaking efforts of these aunts over 50. But despite their enthusiastic introductions, I still smiled politely on the outside but not on the inside. This 21st blind date was no exception—I sent a strained smile to the matchmaker.
This time, the General Manager's blind date introduction was the 22nd. If there was anything special about it, it was that the person introducing me wasn't an aunt but a middle-aged man. He told me to come to their house at 9 a.m. on Saturday—the theme: blind date. The General Manager repeatedly reminded me to dress neatly and clean up, suggesting I go to a barber shop to get myself fixed. The General Manager had once shown me great kindness, and despite being a tall man of 180 centimeters, he sometimes acted very girlish, always chattering away beside me, a bit like my mother. So, I often secretly called him "Auntie Fang" in my heart.
After hanging up the phone with the General Manager, I was about to go to the restroom to take care of some personal business...