Ha, after finishing the invention, I realized there were originally some comments. And surprisingly, many people applauded for the opening without content. When writing about management, it was shocking! The post-modern logo of Google, and AMYCHEN's partner actually wrote two pieces of guiding text. It's really amazing.
With everyone being so supportive, I am considering whether to turn this into a management forum for exchange or to share some feelings. Tonight, I don't have the mood to talk about management; that is a 16-hour workday issue. Given my current fatty liver symptoms, my time clearly does not fall within the 16-hour category. So, I will share some feelings.
Time leaves no trace.
Life passes by day by day, and I often think of Zhu Ziqing's "Haste." In those early years, during my university days or even after starting work, I loved literature more than anything else, experiencing sensibility over rationality. But at some point, rationality left me, occasionally reappearing in my heart, only to say: why do our days never return? During meals, time flows past the edge of the bowl; while drinking water, time slips by the glass. Dear ones, why do our days never return?
Ha, back then I loved reading literature and martial arts novels, especially "Storms," and my favorite was actually a non-main character, "Hua Manlou" from Gu Long's novels. A blind man, yet a cultivated and gentle one, with a faint smile always on his face. To all fellow travelers here as a token of friendship, I most wanted to be such a man. However, times have changed, and I have become the main character in my own world. I also loved the love story between Bu Jingyun and Xue Yuan in "Storms," which moved me to tears.
I enjoyed writing letters to my family on rainy autumn evenings when the wind and rain came suddenly. I would write about how trees want to stand still but the wind won't stop, and how children want to care for their parents who are no longer around. Nowadays, I can only enjoy such beautiful moments alone in the quiet depths of the night.
Time leaves its mark on people, but I feel mine are heavier. Why do I say this?
I've seen people become more radical due to time, fighting against it. I've seen those who are frustrated and unable to adapt deeply enough to time. I am neither of these types, but rather someone who adapts to time and forgets themselves in the process. Time changes me, but it's hard to see because we are uniquely unified in this moment. Therefore, what it gives me is the deepest and hardest to express.
In such times, I follow it with the most ostentatious or perhaps the most silent methods, trying to make small changes.
Adapting itself is a form of silence!