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Change yourself or change the world?

     After reading Mr. Bo Yang's book, *The Ugly Chinaman*, I was deeply moved. I don't agree with all of Mr. Bo Yang's views, such as the romanization of Chinese characters and the idea that China should blindly copy the West because the West is more advanced. However, Mr. Bo Yang's sharp writing truly opened a new window for me to understand contemporary Chinese social phenomena. There are two views on personality among Chinese people: one is the ideal personality, which appears in the works of sages and exists in people's minds; the other is the realistic personality, which is prevalent in real life and represents people's true expectations of themselves. Under this expectation, there is basically no sense of guilt in doing things. As for the ideal personality, this is what everyone expects of others. People hope that others can be like those described by sages, while they themselves use a different set of standards to judge themselves. The result is that no ...
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Verbal attacks and written criticisms

     Verbal attacks and written criticism are the literati's trump card. They may have been unable to reason with ignorant and rude soldiers, they may have been weak and frail from hunger and cold, they may have sung praises amidst moral confusion, and they may have been powerless to even kill a chicken while toiling in the fields. It is this very group that has propelled the progress of social civilization, and it is also this very group that has hindered it. They can be gentlemen throughout history, or they can be villains. The distinction between a gentleman and a villain often lies not in their knowledge, but in their character.     In my view, a literati is not yet a wise man. Perhaps he is already a learned scholar, a renowned figure of great talent, or a favored minister who rises to high office. Knowledge has made him wise, but it also prevents him from escaping the limitations of "literati mutual contempt," not to mention his inability to remain neutral...
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Watching a grand opera

     The simple and honest villagers, filled with joy, took time out of their busy schedules and, undeterred by the long journey, gathered at the town's theater to watch a grand opera. This grand opera is actually Jinju, a type of opera contrasting with Errentai (a type of folk opera). The lovely villagers, for ease of remembering, aptly call it "grand opera." Watching a grand opera is the most important event in the village. Temple fairs and trade fairs invariably feature performances by grand opera troupes.     Grand opera is deeply loved by the villagers; it is a solace for their weary hearts and a substitute for their spiritual life. It is like a river, flowing with the endless joys and sorrows of the villagers. This year, coinciding with the National Day and harvest season, the town invited the Jinyuan Jinju Troupe from Taiyuan City, Shanxi Province, to perform in our town to celebrate the completion of the new theater. The villagers were overjoyed and spen...
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Having a child is no big deal

     Xiaojing's due date is approaching, and which hospital to give birth in has become a daily topic of debate in the family.     Xiaojing's husband thought they should go to the First People's Hospital because it's the largest hospital in the city, with the best doctors and the most advanced equipment. Xiaojing's mother-in-law, however, thought they should go to the Women and Children's Hospital, believing it specializes in childbirth and that they'd been doing their prenatal checkups there, so it couldn't be wrong. Xiaojing's father-in-law insisted on sending his daughter-in-law to the Second People's Hospital, for a simple reason: the vice president there was his classmate, and no matter how good the hospital was, it couldn't compare to having an acquaintance there—it would be easier to get things done with connections…     The whole family argued about this every day, eventually comparing prices from three different hospitals. They found...
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The old man next door

     I remember living in a bungalow in the old town. One of my neighbors was a kind and gentle old man. His bright eyes and agile movements made him seem much older than his eighties. I think this was inseparable from his love of life, his positive and open-minded attitude.     In his spare time, he loved to grow flowers. The bright red azaleas, evergreen orchids, fragrant white magnolias, and the thousands of willow branches with their drooping green canopies in his yard were all planted by him. Whenever I passed by his house, the delicate fragrance was intoxicating. He was always busy in his flowerbeds, watering, arranging, fertilizing, and loosening the soil, finding contentment and peace in his work. He often said, "All things have a spirit; treat them well, and they will be grateful." The flowers seemed to understand his words; every spring, the flowers in his yard would bloom in unison, a truly delightful sight.     The old man loved gardening a...
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Random Notes on the Little River

     A group of fish swam happily in their watery world, their home clean and clear. The fish were extremely content. One day, one of their companions, playing in the river, fainted. The mother fish rushed her little fish to the fish hospital. The fish doctor said, "The little fish has been poisoned by drinking unclean water." While receiving an IV drip at the fish hospital, the little fish wondered, "Why was I poisoned? Our home in the water has always been clean and comfortable." The little fish felt helpless, thinking that it would never be able to swim out to play again and would have to stay at home, and it was very unhappy. The mother fish cried out, "Who can give my child back a clean home?" "     I remember the river in front of my house. Back then, it was teeming with fish and shrimp. You could easily catch several pounds with a fishing net, and those fish and shrimp were big and plump. Especially after rainy days, there were even more fish; ...
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The woman at the alley entrance

     Before moving to this neighborhood, I rented a place in the suburbs. Passing by the alleyway, a familiar scene flashed before my eyes…     At night, the residents at the alleyway's entrance would turn off their lights and go to sleep early. Only one house had its light on all the time, and a middle-aged woman sat at the door. At first, I didn't pay much attention. But after seeing her more often, I started to notice. This woman seemed to be waiting for someone, and upon closer inspection, I saw she was holding a pillow in her arms, which she claimed was her child. I overheard from several other residents at the alleyway that the woman had a child late in life. When the child was six, he went to play in the river and stayed there for half a day. Someone saw the child's body and ran back to tell the woman. She rushed to the riverbank, saw her drowned child, and suddenly went mad. During the day, this woman, with disheveled hair, would sit by the river for hou...
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