Simple, Steadfast Perseverance Is Also a Kind of Happiness

On Haji Lane in Singapore there is a Hainanese Western restaurant called "Taizi Coffee Shop." It has been open for 50 years, run by an 86-year-old owner, Lin Daobai. Originally from Hainan, China, Lin came to Singapore by boat with his parents as a child; he began working in his teens and, after a few years in hotels, learned to cook Western food. In his thirties he founded the Taizi Coffee Shop Hainanese Western restaurant.

Ever since founding it, he has run the shop himself. For 50 years he has taken the bus the same way between his home and the restaurant, arriving at 9:30 in the morning and leaving at 8 in the evening. In 50 years he has never tired of this work. Even today, Taizi Coffee Shop still has many regular customers, the old man's business is still good, and he still personally cooks delicious food for everyone. His menu has never changed; even the tablecloths and plates have hardly changed, some having been in use for 50 years.

Eighty-six-year-old Uncle Lin still feels energetic as a young man, and in fact he is. Not only is he sturdy enough for the daily work of a Western restaurant, his skin is also excellent, with almost no age spots. His little restaurant has become a landmark of Haji Lane, and many people drop by for a visit.

This is an ordinary person's life; his perseverance has made his days peaceful and happy. He loves his shop, his work, and his family, and this life has left him content. Uncle Lin is someone content with his lot. Since age 35 his life has been almost formulaically simple, yet he has never grown weary of it. Customers like chatting with him, and he likes chatting with them; through exchanges with the diners who come and go, he also gathers rich information and enriches his life.

I like Uncle Lin's way of life. Since my thirties, tired of the bustling outside world, my own life has not differed much from his, except that our fields of persistence are different. Every day he tends his Western restaurant; I study the life sciences I love. At the same time, unless something special comes up, I keep writing a little, work moderately, and do some physical labor, helping others with their health while supporting my family. Unhurried, unrushed, with not too many ambitions, and no sorrow or anxiety.

This simple, almost formulaic life, I intend to live for the rest of my days. If in old age I can still, like him, have the energy to handle my work and life, I will not retire either. From my observations among the elderly, I have found that what old people fear most is losing their sense of value; an old person who still has value to society and family tends to have a higher quality of life.

On a day in May 2018, the 104-year-old Australian scientist Professor David Goodall underwent voluntary euthanasia at a clinic in Switzerland. The main reason was that he felt he had lost his sense of value and that living too long had become a torment. This old scientist had kept working until then; work made him happy. But he had grown too old; the university where he worked thought it dangerous for him to keep taking the bus to work, so it stopped his work. Once work stopped, he lost his joy and ultimately chose euthanasia.

I am 45 this year, but I am already thinking about old age. The reason is that most of my time is spent solving health problems for all kinds of elderly people, and I have deeply felt how hard old age is. Aging alone, a natural law no one can avoid, is enough to shatter a person's confidence — many people who were spirited in youth lose confidence in old age and live in unease.

I have decided to go to university again once in middle age and once in old age, to receive a complete higher education. My wife is also restless; lately she has been considering picking up a master's or doctorate in education (she already got a master's in her own field at Tsinghua). She is arguably a successful teacher: one year, when Beijing held a vocational skills competition, three of the top five were her students — first, second, and fifth. A subject teacher who produces such results is rare, yet to improve herself she still wants, like me, to go back for education.

Neither of us wants our brains to decline in old age, unable to manage our emotions, or unable to care for ourselves and become a burden to our children. Since age 30 I have been in the habit of planning ahead; my wife has long been in the habit of following my lead. For our own sakes and our children's, we both hope to live our later years as simply and happily as Uncle Lin.

Uncle Lin's healthy, happy old age makes me envious. His little shop will never make him a prominent millionaire, but it has brought him a lifetime of contentment and joy; what he gains from his work is far more than money.

When we are young, most of us have many dreams, hoping for a rich and colorful life. But after three or four decades in the human world, most people have tasted all its bittersweetness. After that, the outside world's allure fades greatly. To do work that makes oneself happy and, like Uncle Lin, persist simply and peacefully for fifty years or more — that too is a kind of happiness.