To Wang Xiaotian, before you came to Shenzhen:
Hello.
As I write this letter, I haven’t been in Shenzhen for very long myself. I imagine you’re full of anticipation about what I’m going to tell you. That’s how I originally began. But this morning, after listening to Sister He’s story, something suddenly occurred to me: you must be feeling terribly sad, aren’t you? Your hopes for Shenzhen may be the last straw you’re clinging to. So, following her example, the first thing I want to do is give you a hug.
I wish I could tell you that I’ve found what I was looking for, that my life is bright and beautiful, that even its occasional disappointments are like trials the darkness reserves for legendary heroes, and that I’ve set out on the glorious, open road you once dreamed of. But I can’t say that. I’ve tried to think of something that might make me seem a little less insignificant, but I haven’t succeeded. Even now, I’m still a very ordinary person. After a few twists and turns, I’ve even put on a little weight compared with you. I’m rather ashamed of that, but at least it isn’t incurable.
Shenzhen is hot. It’s April, and the midday sun is already occasionally suffocating. I don’t like the heat, so I have a few complaints about the sunshine. But I love the wind in Shekou. On a street where trucks pass by, there’s a traffic light hanging slightly crooked. Somehow, it’s beautiful.
If you ever need to go to Guangzhou, taking the bus is a better choice. From a bridge in Bao’an, you can see the bay and the calm sea. Buildings dissolve into the mist like some kind of revelation. One sad morning in the future, you’ll find in that view a way to face life’s difficulties with greater peace.
One New Year’s Eve, you’ll cycle along Shenzhen Bay in the cold wind. Another year, you’ll miss the fireworks at Window of the World. You’ll enter your twenties.
You’ll go to the theatre at the Children’s Palace many times, sometimes with friends, but more often alone. Apart from one terribly staged production of Hamlet, you’ll cry every time.
When you look up at those impossibly high ceilings, when you walk along streets dotted with red taillights, you’ll feel small. But one night, facing an almost deserted Futian, with the street and the evening breeze seemingly belonging to you alone, you’ll suddenly feel vast.
One day, after missing your bus stop, you’ll find yourself in Xili. On a humid night, you’ll be handed a plastic bag of sliced watermelon. The woman selling it will cut the fruit with a curved knife, the juice bursting out as each piece falls. In a sudden flash of understanding, you’ll imagine you’ve grasped something of Shenzhen’s spirit.
You’ll rarely find the slightly chilly rain you love so much.
You’ll spend an hour and a half on a bus to Luohu to collect a camera. On the way back, you’ll gaze out of the window for a long time. On a building, you’ll see the words “Good Night, Shenzhen”, and you’ll reply, “Good night.”
You’ll travel alone. You’ll discover that solitude can also be a kind of peace. You’ll call wandering a journey.
Sometimes, Shenzhen has an extraordinarily beautiful, luminous moon.
There will be moments when you blame this city for your timidity. It moves too fast. But more often, you’ll realise that this same city is what allows you to keep dreaming. It will catch you when you fall. It will make you believe that anything is still possible. You’ll even begin to miss its salty, humid air.
One winter, you’ll go through something difficult, something almost frightening. But it will end, and it will give you greater depth, though perhaps that’s a rather selfish way of putting it.
One day, an older fellow student will invite you to take part in a short film shoot. There are two Gaga cafés at MixC. You’ll be delighted, without knowing that this will change the course of your life.
You’ll face many choices. Some will be right; others perhaps won’t. But that’s all right. Life is long, after all. Be brave.
I’ve always believed that everything a person experiences contributes to making them whole. Happiness, certainly, but suffering too. I believe this because I don’t want to live with regrets.
And I know your character well. At this point in your life, you won’t really change because of what someone else tells you. What you miss, what you lose, what you gain: all of it is part of life. So I’m not trying to change you.
I simply want to tell you that I haven’t given up on those distant things you love. And since I haven’t given up, perhaps you should start pursuing them honestly, a little sooner.
I’ve learned to face things beyond my power. Not to accept them, but to confront them. There is no fate that cannot be overcome with enough defiance. To forgive life is, in fact, to forgive yourself.
I believe a brave new world always exists, even if it is reserved for those who consider creating such a world their responsibility. And I know you wouldn’t willingly exclude yourself from their number.
Cherish every day. Your unwillingness to give up won’t diminish as you grow older. So go after what you want, my friend. Everything will find its way to where it belongs. Everything will return to its place.
Lately, many good things have happened to me. Of course, there have also been moments of anxiety. I’m standing at a turning point in my life, with a future I must take responsibility for drawing close.
But I think the important thing is simply to keep moving forward. No matter where I go or how I get there, moving forward will always leave me with fewer regrets than standing still.
One day, I was walking down the street when I suddenly began to smile for no reason. I felt happy.
You’ll experience that happiness too. It’s difficult to explain where that sudden joy comes from. All I know is that it has something to do with hope.
I’ve met wonderful people. Friends, teachers, people who shine.
I love myself. I believe that perhaps I have the strength to overcome certain things. I no longer look back.
I run to catch a bus that’s about to leave, just as I did when I was a child, as though I were chasing an important dream, one that’s a little embarrassing to admit.
I don’t want to say too much, because you’ll come to understand all of this yourself.
I simply want to tell you that after everything you’ve been through, you’re still, all things considered, a pretty decent person. And you’re becoming better.
So keep going bravely.
Become the person you want to be.
Become the person you want to be.
Become the person you want to be.
You’ll see all the landscapes I hold dear, and with a little nervousness but full of anticipation, you’ll welcome whatever fate has in store.