Chapter 14: Preliminary Round Essay

With a mind bombarded by postmodern information, Han Han quickly determined the most valuable theme.

Themes like the beauty of imperfection or environmental destruction were too common—easy to write, but dull.

The most badass approach would be to delve into the subtle depths of human nature or write a critique of society and politics, but considering the audience, it shouldn't be too profound.

Han Han spent some time weighing his options, and finally settled on this theme—

Human nature is neutral; neither good nor evil.

It is our circumstances that determine who we eventually become.

Once we clearly realize this, we can, through "cultivation," personally create the "self" we wish to become.

To know one's fate but not submit to it—that is the true Dao.

……

Such a theme was clearly rebellious yet positive.

It was cut from the same cloth as his essay "Youth."

The effect it would have on teenagers was roughly… mind-blowing but painless?

There might be a threshold for understanding, but not understanding it wouldn't stop them from thinking it was cool—that was about it.

To be a top-tier hunk in both appearance and thought, and to rake in fans—that was Han Han's original intention when he started writing.

Of course, because he didn't fully understand the current youth landscape, he didn't have absolute certainty; he could only do his best.

Hopefully, the result would be the best one…

With the core set, he began to write.

……

【A teacher once took out a beautiful red apple in front of me and took a crunching bite.

The tooth marks were ugly.

The apple had been perfectly round and could have lasted a long time, but after half a minute, the exposed flesh began to oxidize, and I already saw its ending: a rapid decay.

What is infecting its wound?

Everything in the air.

Then, what is infecting us?

Everything in civilization.

Philosophers, madmen, and young idiots always want to change the world, but the world never cares; it exists objectively, neither happy nor sad. Only civilization gives them feedback, and only the people who make up civilization—and the various consciousnesses, behaviors, emotions, and desires born from them—will carve, shape, or even toy with and destroy the young individuals within that civilization.

This is infection.

This process is sometimes good, sometimes bad, and most of the time, neither.

What does a good infection process look like?

It is likely being carefully tended to, where that beautiful skin is never broken, constantly absorbing nutrients correctly while effectively filtering out toxins.

I’m not sure; I’ve never seen it. I’m just guessing.

And what about a bad infection process?

It is just like what is before my eyes: bitten, missing a chunk, and everything outside rushes in. The wound quickly festers, and in the end, it either rots to the core or forms a hideous scar.

Many of my peers whom I frequently interact with were bitten before they even knew me.

Therefore, I always feel they haven't developed very well; they are a bit misshapen.

Yet, in reality, they view me the same way. This strange situation, where "crows can only see the pig's blackness, not their own," inspired my thinking and finally led me to unearth a cruel truth—

The fundamental reason why we wild children who weren't carefully tended to end up as "what we are" depends entirely on what stage we were at, what trivial matter occurred, and what bit us.

Some reasons are heartbreaking, while others are ridiculous.

Perhaps it was just because a mother was mocked by a gossip, or a father lost money gambling, or even because a student answered a teacher's first question too slowly out of fear—and then, a hideous, vicious mouth suddenly bit down.

There are always inexplicable reasons that lead us to become that punching bag, and until the pain pierces our minds, we innocent ones remain clueless.

How pathetic.

What’s even more pathetic is that the harm goes far beyond being a punching bag. The trauma caused by parents fighting for years, affairs, divorce, or even accidental death truly hurts to the bone.

I don't want to write this part; you can fit yourselves into these scenarios.

Anyway, no matter how many causes there are, the result is always the same—

The missing piece can no longer resist external infection, so no matter how good the people we meet later are, or how well we are cared for and protected, the rotting part continues to spread deeper.

Thus, we go from the pure, harmonious, and Dao-near state of infancy, to the confused, angry, and conflicted state of adolescence, and finally to the hypocritical, numb, and petty state of adulthood… sliding down all the way.

It’s better not to mention what comes after; some people die at this stage, they just aren't buried until many years later.

Who invented the idiom "walking corpse"? They were truly wise.

The beginning of the rot is always most tragic when it happens in childhood; childhood deficiency is a disease that takes a lifetime to treat, and no one can guarantee it can be cured.

It’s a bit better if it happens in adolescence; the child has some capacity to accept it, and perhaps a "second form" might even be triggered.

For example, me—I fight extremely fiercely; my second form is like a wolf at thirty and a tiger at forty, extremely terrifying.

I call the harm that occurs at this age "adolescent frustration." Its severity can be light or heavy, depending on how those things took their bite.

Finally, there are the setbacks in young adulthood—I actually think it’s not a bad thing for a guy in his twenties to suffer some setbacks. Let society make up for the beatings he didn't get in his youth; it should be quite tempering.

Anyway, don't temper me; I’ve had enough of setbacks. Now I just want to watch others' jokes.

After summarizing "at what stage" and "because of what trivial matter," the remaining "by what thing" made me very hesitant; I didn't know how much I should curse.

Because 99% of the things that can bite a chunk of flesh out of us are our parents, relatives, friends, and teachers.

Being bitten by a stray dog on the street won't leave internal injuries.

As long as you take a few buddies to finish it off and enjoy a couple of meals of dog meat, you will understand that this thing is a pet when it's obedient, and just food when it's not.

But close people are different, especially parents. They are discordant, biased, ignorant, and irritable. What can a child do?

Nothing, right?

At first, I couldn't figure it out, but later I finally found the answer in Daoist classics.

One's circumstances are not something we can control.

What kind of family we are born into, what kind of environment we grow up in, what kind of education we receive, and what kind of gaps are gnawed out of us—before the age of 18, we can't decide any of it.

This is what is called fate.

Daoism talks about fate, and Chinese people believe in fate, but Daoism is never passive about it, and the sages of the Chinese nation were never passive either.

Ge Hong was the first to shout in *Baopuzi*, "My fate is in my hands, not in heaven," which was deafening.

Before Wen Kang promoted "obeying heaven and knowing fate" in the Qing Dynasty, our ancestors always believed in "defying heaven to change fate." From Zhuge Liang setting up the Seven-Star Lamp to extend his life, all the way back to Yu the Great taming the floods, these are all examples of "the world is full of dissatisfaction, I shall fight it with my life."

There are specific methods, too.

Laozi tells us in the *Dao De Jing*: "Know the masculine, keep to the feminine, be the valley of the world. Being the valley of the world, constant virtue will not depart, and one will return to the state of an infant."

It doesn't matter if you've been bitten; slowly learn and cultivate. Know the ways of the world and distinguish good from evil, but do not drift with the tide. Guard your spirit, and bit by bit, repair yourself, eventually returning to that state of returning to the origin, a state near to the Dao.

I think this is a very pragmatic approach to problem-solving.

When you discover you've been bitten, don't panic. Look carefully at where you were bitten, how big the hole is, and ponder what exactly caused it. Then, make a vow to yourself—I will never let this happen again.

Next, start to resist.

Strive to become strong, grow wildly, and when you are strong enough, if anyone opens their mouth at you again, slap their rotten teeth out.

Sufficient power can solve all problems, and power can be superficial money, profound knowledge, booming reputation, or even an extremely robust physique.

In short, anything is fine, just don't be intimidated and stop moving forward.

The day we stand still and give up resisting, the "self" that was born from the womb and developed to this point truly dies. The name is already registered in the King of Hell's book, with two big words for a comment: Loser.

If I were that apple, anyone who wanted to bite me would have to be prepared to drink porridge for the rest of their life.

Wild?

Being wild is what a young man is.

Of course, what is more likely to happen is this—when you are strong enough, you don't need to use your power. Everywhere your gaze falls, there are only smiling faces.

I have a deep understanding of this as well.

Before the first semester of eighth grade, I fought often because if I didn't use my hands, someone would always try to climb on my head and seek a sense of existence from your wild daddy. Until I did one big thing, the campus was suddenly peaceful and quiet. Occasionally, when I went out for a stroll, everyone would bow and scrape. It was extremely boring.

That's why I turned over a new leaf, put down the knife, picked up the pen, and wrote these nonsensical, sour essays.

At this moment, I suddenly feel a bit irritable, and I can't help but question myself: Why am I, Han Han, a mini-boss who swept through the junior high department, sitting in this dump, racking my brains with clumsy language to talk about these grand principles that essentially have nothing to do with me?

After thinking about it carefully, the answer is obvious—

Oh, I’m doing it to become famous. Once famous, I can make big money, and with money, I can grow freely and then do whatever I like.

Then there's no problem.

To become strong, I can accept a lot of temporary unhappiness and keep going until I thoroughly succeed.

Just like a tiger lying on a desolate hill, hiding its claws and teeth, enduring.

A pretty good poem, right?

I like the next two lines too, but the original text isn't convenient to write out. I'll summarize the general meaning for you.

——One day, when I’ve made it big, I’ll settle old scores, avenge old grievances. I must smash you beasts who bite me into pieces and scatter your ashes!

A bit petty, but this is the self I want to become.

Not recommended to imitate, but you can take it as a reference.

Writing to this point, the most genuine emotions in my heart suddenly began to surge, gradually becoming clear.

I am not a good child, but a wild child cursed and feared by many. But I am not bad either; I am just resisting, struggling against the malice that I don't even know where it comes from.

Now I am doing well, living arduously but brilliantly.

I wish you the same: do not be domesticated, do not be infected, do not submit to fate, and actively become the you that you most want to become.

If there are more people like this, none of us will be lonely anymore.

Just like the torch mentioned by Mr. Lu Xun, there is no need to wait for others to light the way. Just emit your own little light; perhaps it isn't very dazzling, but among the scarred peers, it will appear brilliant.

In this way, this is probably our golden age, right?

……

Look, now I am also a philosopher, a madman, or a young idiot who tries to change the world. Thinking about it carefully, it’s actually not that bad.

Then let it be so.

I hope to see that day soon.】