Growing Up and Letting Go, Step by Step
After the college entrance exam (gaokao) ended, I devoted some energy to preparing for the first lawsuit of my life—a claim for compensation after a car accident. The court hearing is set for July 2nd; I hope it is also the only lawsuit of my life. I sorted through the case materials, gathered various information, studied the relevant legal provisions, searched for similar cases on China's Judgements Online, and drafted the various legal documents—and so entered a realm I had never before set foot in: legal practice intimately connected to myself.
It was not quite the fairness and impartiality with clear standards I had imagined. That similar cases are judged so differently—even in opposing ways—across different regions was surprise enough. This judicial chaos has even drawn the attention of national leaders, and the state is now vigorously promoting uniform judgment of similar cases. But our country is vast, and the problem of each locality going its own way is deeply entrenched; achieving this goal in the short term will not be easy. A legal novice like me, long sealed inside an ivory tower, has at least seen the other side of the real world.
When I was young I was passionate about reforming society and hoped to devote myself to making this society better. To that end I participated in many public events that might change some of our country's social rules. The most famous of these was the case of Sun Zhigang, a young man from my hometown Huanggang who was beaten to death by neighborhood patrol guards over a temporary residence permit. At the time I actively took part, joining many others in raising our voices, and played a small, humble part. In the end the incident prompted the State Council to abolish the urban detention and repatriation regulations.
I still feel proud of that experience, because I made a tiny but real contribution to social progress and changed many people's lives. Young people today may not know how agonizing it once was for outsiders working in cities to go about without a temporary residence permit. Sun Zhigang's sacrifice and our efforts brought about a small change in society. After the urban detention regulations were abolished, migrant workers walking the streets no longer feared being checked for their permits. From that event I also learned that, as the most insignificant member of society, even we have the chance to change social rules.
In my early years I always hoped to reform society rapidly like a revolutionary (though, having read more history now, I know that even revolutionaries lack such power; a social change is entirely the result of many factors acting together, and the individual's force is very limited)—and to bring about dramatic change, which is the kind of daydream hot-blooded young people often indulge in. At my present age, I know that being able to play even a tiny part in changing society on some small matter is already quite good. Social progress requires the joint effort of many people, and that effort is a very long process.
After living through this compensation incident, I for a while entertained the idea of doing something to push for changes in the relevant legal rules, but I knew that would be enormously draining, so in the end I chose to stop while I was ahead and let nature take its course. Because my life already has its own focus, I cannot afford to be distracted by too many other things; too much distraction makes me uneasy inside.
Once the age on my ID card reached forty-five, I set about transferring my household registration to Beijing. Because I had prepared well in advance, the procedures went smoothly, and I am now in the queue waiting for registration. Once all the formalities are complete, another tie will bind me to the city of Beijing. I have gradually been domesticated by this city, and most of the rest of my life will likely be spent in Beijing, absorbed in my research.
With more experience comes mental growth, and many things simply let go. Even matters that might hurt my interests can no longer excite me much. My attention has gradually turned to books and my small vegetable garden; time in books is long, and one is never lonely there. I am restudying history, mathematics, and English, and also learning art and music—drawing sketches and playing instruments—though medicine and biology remain my favorites.
Now I very much look forward to returning to campus soon and enjoying a few years of student life. For me, studying full-time is a fine adjustment to my current state of life and a reward to myself. I can take the chance to rest and savor the pleasure of reading with peace of mind. After working for so many years, what I miss most is campus life. At school one need not worry about so many things and can focus on study and reading. Even with plenty of exams, it is still a relaxed and easy state of life—if only one could never grow up!
I am still full of energy, vigorous every day, and able to get a great deal done. Middle age is actually the finest stage of life: we are no longer dependent on our parents, nor need our children to care for us, the confusion of life has largely cleared, and we can enjoy the greatest freedom of our lives.
A human life is very short, and the time truly belonging to oneself is little. Perhaps only middle-aged people have a stage in which they can, to the greatest extent, dispose of their lives according to their own wishes. As old age approaches, aging, illness, and death will seek us out, worsening our quality of life and making our experiences gradually less pleasant. So we must make the most of this finest time to do what we love most.