Best friend who always teases you

Here are some bedtime habits I'd like to share. For example, before sleep, I might randomly play a song from Q Music's daily recommendations in my study, or choose an old song that suddenly comes to mind. I might also warm some milk, add some soothing essential oils to the humidifier lamp, and enjoy it before sleeping. I've always believed that a sense of ritual is indispensable in life—like ancient people leaning against carved windows in wooden pavilions while savoring osmanthus cakes, or installing four chains in the courtyard to listen to the sound of raindrops.

Ahem... I digress. In any case, after listening to 'Xiaoyao Tan' and then 'Best Friend,' and having a glass of red wine, I suddenly felt like writing something.

When I was a child, I used to watch 'Chinese Paladin' and loved ancient-style things. I had a friend named Old Tan, whom I'd known for many years—about seven, I think? I can't remember exactly... From elementary to middle school, he was into guns and would drag me into playing 'GunZ 2.' At the time, my family had a big computer, and he’d occasionally come over to play 'GTA: Vice City.' Besides him, I had friends from childhood in mainland China who played 'Aola Star,' 'Rock Kingdom,' and 'Seer.' I also met some overseas friends in 'Minecraft.' My family couldn’t stand it, thinking they’d be a bad influence, so they sent me to all kinds of tutoring and traditional Chinese education to cut ties. Later, one sentence completely shattered me: 'If you don’t love it, that’s fine, but can’t you at least pretend? It won’t kill you.'

In Hong Kong, during the third year of middle school, it’s similar to vocational schools in mainland China—if you can’t get into university, you go to VTC. The difference is that VTC guarantees a job. My family had already decided: if I could pass the exams, great; if not, I’d study abroad. But my old friend’s family wasn’t well-off, and he had a younger sister. He wanted her to have a complete student life. So, during the summer after third year, we had a farewell meal. For some people, that meeting might have been the last time.

We had a mutual friend, a chubby kid with some white hair named Old Huang, who had decent grades. Through him, I kept in sporadic contact with Old Tan. But after the pandemic, even that connection faded. In the end, the most laid-back one among the three of us—me—ended up with many offers. Old Tan left, Old Huang left, and my student days ended much sooner than others', arriving at 'when the grapes are ripe.'

I wonder if everyone’s student days have a trio like ours—a little 'Peach Garden Squad.'

Later on, I lost contact with those old friends. I transferred schools a few times and made new friends. But from then on, I was always performing—pretending to be happy, doing well in school, planning my life without needing others to worry, suppressing my own emotions to comfort adults when they were upset. I had part-time jobs before and now I’m also starting a business. I performed as someone who didn’t like to play, only loved studying and working, someone devout about learning. The act became so ingrained that I couldn’t go back. I didn’t want to play games anymore; all I could do was research investments, work, and entrepreneurship—those 'serious' things. Even now, as an adult and independent, some wounds still ache faintly.

I have a question: Adults always say a child’s responsibility is to grow up quickly. But shouldn’t children, coming into this world, first take the time to see it properly? If the soil is flawed, even the weeds won’t grow. Just because something has 'always been this way' doesn’t make it right. Ritual propriety devours people—so is 'always been' really the standard?

Absolute rules inherently stifle true innovation—they are fundamentally opposed. Who my friends are, what I like, what I dislike, who’s an enemy, who’s a friend, what’s right, what’s wrong—or maybe nothing is wrong—why should you be the one to tell me? Shouldn’t I walk this world, ask it questions, and then offer my own answers back? This is the root of five thousand years of sickness: people devouring people until there are no people left—only dogs, dogs, and the dogs’ lackeys. Master Will A and Master Will B fight; B loses its will and becomes a slave. A orders B to build, and what B builds erodes A until A, too, loses agency. In the end, A also becomes a slave. There are no people here—only dogs. Dogs rule the world. Who am I? Where am I? Where should I go?

Over the years, I’ve made new friends. But whenever I think back to those people and those times, I’m still moved by that four-eyed kid. The smiles from back then can still move me now—enough to make me cry, which isn’t easy. After being rejected by investors one after another, after socializing with partners in ways that would’ve made my younger self nauseous, my heart has turned to stone. It takes something truly sincere to make me cry now.

The flowers of stone bloom before they appear. Exams and the fireworks of the countryside are a stuffy, naive spring. The summers spent rushing through holiday homework under snowfall, the autumns of outings in the wild, the fiery winters of Christmas staying up all night on the phone until dawn. Childhood feels like it both existed and didn’t. Certain things were taken away by certain people and events. My crazy little universe—now there’s no one left to share it with.

Finally, a nod to 'Best Friend':

Some things can only be written at night, online. Tomorrow, I’m off to the mainland to oversee the factory 🌠. Hope I can sleep well tonight. Another energetic day awaits ☄️.

I’d buy osmanthus and wine, but it’s just not the same as when we were young.

Goodnight 🌌.