Due to work schedules, my spouse leaves home an hour earlier than I do each morning and arrives back two hours earlier in the evening. Aside from the brief time we share during breakfast, our communication on weekdays is minimal. Thus, what we call “foot-soaking time” refers to those short moments when I boil water for my spouse to soak their feet after work, during which we engage in casual, unstructured conversations covering all sorts of topics.
As the saying goes, exchanging two apples leaves each person with just two apples, but exchanging two ideas generates far more than two thoughts. Therefore, I’m documenting some of our discussions here for two purposes: first, to avoid being part of the “silent majority” and to speak up as an ordinary person; second, because I feel that in the current climate of public discourse, many of us might harbor an illusion: Why is there such a stark disconnect between the words and actions of the colleagues, classmates, and friends we know offline and those we see online?
Since both my spouse and I graduated from non-prestigious undergraduate programs—they from an art school and I from an engineering college—and haven’t read much in the way of social sciences, philosophy, or humanities, some of our views are quite down-to-earth. As they say, where you stand depends on where you sit, so I’m aware this bias exists. But as mentioned earlier, speaking as an ordinary person, I think about ordinary things—whether the emperor uses a golden spoon to scoop manure is of no concern to me.
Why Do Some Domestic Historical Dramas Feel So Fake?
When everyone else is disheartened, he’s impassioned and indignant; when others say things are bad, he insists they’re good; amid flying artillery shells, he remains calm and strolls leisurely; bombs always miss him with pinpoint accuracy. Do you think such historical dramas are watchable?
What sets great figures apart from ordinary people isn’t just that they were destined for greatness from the start, but rather that circumstances forged them into heroes. A vivid analogy is the “insect jar” method: a jar contains many insects, some strong, some weak, but none powerful enough to dominate the jar. They fight, the stronger killing the weaker, only to exhaust themselves and fall prey to others. Regardless of their individual traits or life experiences, only a few—or even just one—survive in the end. We then call this survivor a “great figure.” Later, their descendants analyze how their ancestor, amid harsh conditions, eliminated wrong choices, rose to the occasion, and ultimately survived.
Is this analysis meaningful?
I’m not dismissing the role of great figures in history. On the contrary, I firmly believe they are extraordinary—they lived through experiences most never face and became known to the world. But their success isn’t solely due to personal effort; luck plays a part, too. Yet, whether intentionally or not, people tend to overlook or downplay luck’s role, even its decisive impact, preferring to attribute everything to the individual’s greatness.
Moreover, much like the mechanics in the game Civilization, great figures inevitably emerge over time. If one hadn’t appeared today, another might have arisen two decades later. Blindly idolizing “great figures” and engaging in personality cults is therefore incredibly narrow-minded.
Many argue that without [[Deng]]’s emergence, China’s reform and opening-up might not have been absent but delayed by years or even decades. But I’d also suggest that in a parallel universe, someone named [[X]] Xiaoping might have ended “that revolution” just two years in, eight years ahead of our timeline, and initiated reforms earlier. That’s not impossible.
Admittedly, historical dramas are an artistic medium. Without some embellishment, the first episode might as well be the last. A degree of exaggeration and artistic license is necessary. But perhaps what ordinary viewers want is a different kind of historical drama: one where the protagonist isn’t unflappable when a bomb explodes nearby—maybe even dropping their chopsticks in shock; where strategic mistakes aren’t brushed off lightly but met with worry and anxiety, even instructions on who should take over if they die; where they lose sleep or grapple with uncertainty about the future and life. What truly sets great figures apart is how they overcome these emotions to become “great.”
Just as people often imagine a “perfect victim” in criminal cases, they are also keen on imagining a “perfect great man.”
I’d like to recommend My Chief and My Regiment. It’s not without flaws, but it portrays the realities of that era.
Is Brainwashing in Conflict with Education?
What is brainwashing? My partner often accuses me of lacking a sense of family responsibility when I don’t do housework. When I try to argue that men work hard outside and don’t want to do chores at home, she tells me I’m brainwashing her.
From this, I’ve drawn a conclusion: brainwashing and education are not mutually exclusive. Though they may appear similar in some forms, they can be distinguished by one key point—brainwashing is subjectively malicious and self-serving (this self-interest may not be for monetary gain), while education is subjectively well-intentioned and altruistic (broadly altruistic, not the kind of “for your own good” altruism parents often claim).
I’ve always believed that the intentions behind many policies from higher authorities are good; otherwise, China’s economy and living standards wouldn’t have improved so dramatically. However, the execution of some policies often deviates from their original intent. This is why local governments issue various judicial interpretations and enforcement regulations. For example, if patriotic education is treated as a mere formality, a perfunctory task, or a bureaucratic exercise, it can easily turn into brainwashing: you’re not genuinely patriotic, nor do you truly want the next generation to love their country—you’re just trying to fulfill a task assigned from above. This is subjectively malicious and self-serving.
Does the Truth Matter?
The truth matters to those directly involved because it’s all they have. But for those not involved, it doesn’t matter as much, because people care more about social impact.
Take a real-life example: if an elderly person falls on the street, would you help them? The first reaction is likely hesitation. Why? Because of the precedent set by the Nanjing Peng Yu case. But whether Peng Yu actually knocked the old woman down or whether she was trying to extort him—we may never know the truth. However, when the court ruled on the case, though the law is supposed to be impartial, it’s impossible to ignore public opinion. Apparently, the facts show that the court delivered a fair verdict without being swayed by舆论. Yet, this created a negative social impact: now, no one dares to help elderly people who fall.
The truth is a beautiful concept, much like hope and perseverance. But reality is harsh, which is why I think those who insist that “no matter what, the truth is the truth” are “fundamentalists”—too idealistic and extreme. Perhaps this is also why so many people in China support the widespread use of surveillance cameras: if you have a clear conscience, you shouldn’t fear being seen; if you’re afraid of being seen, you must have done something wrong. I believe the government shares this view: social impact is more important than the truth. Here’s a follow-up on the Nanjing Peng Yu case:
On the afternoon of October 15, 2007, Li Yuanchao, then Secretary of the Jiangsu Provincial Committee of the Communist Party of China, mentioned the Peng Yu case during a group discussion at the 17th National Congress, using it as an example to showcase Jiangsu’s “grand mediation” mechanism as part of his political achievements. This speech can be seen as evidence of provincial government influence over the case’s mediation and adjudication. It also marked the official announcement that the case concluded with an out-of-court “settlement.”
Settlement outcome: The details of the settlement were not disclosed to the public. It’s reported that Peng Yu was held 10% responsible (originally, the court ruled 40%, amounting to over 40,000 yuan) and compensated around 10,000 yuan. Rumors suggest the payment was made by a “third party,” but this has not been officially confirmed.
I Really Dislike People Who Are Stupid Yet Hardworking
👆🏻 This is my personal opinion. Throughout your life, every medium of human communication you encounter—books, radio, the internet, advertisements, anime, movies, TV shows—promotes the same idea: even if you’re stupid, you should still work hard.
Why? Because if you don’t work hard, you’ll remain stuck in your current state, while hard work might help you break through. But no one knows the actual probability of that “might.” Some say the focus should be on the struggle itself, hence the saying, “A person’s life should be spent like this…”
Undoubtedly, the government promotes this ideology with its own considerations, as it contributes to social and economic development. Have you ever seen a government/nation that does not encourage its people to strive hard? (Because those nations that advocated complacency and fatalism have silently vanished.) Books that express the genuine sentiments of ordinary people giving up on striving can hardly be published. However, the prerequisite for encouraging hard work is rarely mentioned—one must have self-awareness.
There is a truth to consider: the reason the ugly duckling could transform into a swan lies partly in people’s misunderstanding of it—its “ugliness” was judged by duck standards—and partly because it was inherently a swan all along. Encouraging a toad by saying, “If you just work hard, you can become a swan,” is doing it a disservice.
The Curse of Beauty
Many envy those blessed with good looks, but they forget the duality of things. While beauty undoubtedly offers unparalleled convenience in certain situations—advantages other strengths cannot match—it also has a flaw: it can blind you, making certain things seem effortlessly simple, as if they were naturally meant to be. This illusion can be perilous at times.
From the author:
I often wish that when facing some key decisions in life, someone could tell me the best course of action so that I would not waste my precious time. Putting myself in others' shoes, I therefore write blogs often, hoping to record in this tiny corner of the vast Internet the once-in-a-lifetime experiences that matter to me, and to help those who seek help.
