I am not a literary giant

Strictly speaking, in the small city of Xihe, Wang Zixu's workplace is the envy of many.

The work is light, not tiring, and the salary is average. Although you may not have enough to eat, you will definitely not starve. It is the ultimate dream for many people.

However, whenever Wang Zixu had the thought of just loafing around and waiting to die, his father's haggard smile would reappear before his eyes, drifting and lingering, impossible to shake off.

He saw a cautionary tale in his father. It only took his father a few years to transform from a stubborn man into someone who would politely apologize to his son. The power of time is truly remarkable.

Or perhaps it's not the power of time, but the inevitable end for this species. As humans age, they must learn to accept it, and in the process, they wear themselves down, slowly becoming someone else.

But there are two things in this world that can withstand the ravages of time: power and money.

Power and money can sustain people. They are two ropes produced in paradise, capable of making the lowly great, the hypocritical genuine, and the base noble. Grab them and you have a chance to go straight to paradise.

To pull oneself out of the whirlpool of life, one must at least grasp one of the key elements. Wang Zixu knew he lacked the talent for business, so he began to seek any opportunity that could restore his civil servant status.

He began actively gathering information. After toasting many people he didn't want to toast and meeting many people he didn't want to meet, as his old classmate said, he didn't get any guarantees, but rather many "opportunities".

These opportunities seemed wonderful, but once Prince Xu stepped into them, he discovered they were all traps. He was exhausted from chasing those "opportunities," and in the end, he benefited others instead.

All his efforts became stepping stones for others. Just when he had finished all his hard work and was happily waiting for the dawn of the next day, a guy he had never seen before would suddenly appear from the side, wave at him, and say, "Sorry, buddy, I'll cut in line."

Those who cut in line each had their own reasons, and all were perfectly legitimate; it was absolutely not because of kinship or connections. Of course, they might have had connections. But you can't deny someone's legitimate reason for cutting in line just because they did. This isn't a crime scene; the presumption of guilt doesn't apply.

After wasting a lot of time and emotion, Wang Zixu finally realized that there is no such thing as fairness in the world; if you don't want to cut in line, you'll be the one being cut in line. Upon reflection, he had no reason to cut in line, so from the beginning, the "opportunity" he saw never existed.

He once thought that by seizing every opportunity, he would surely live a happy life. But in reality, this kind of "happy life" had already been reserved; it wasn't meant to be sold to him in the first place. It was placed on the counter simply to lure honest people like him into taking a look.

As the years went by, he finally grew old.

……

Wang Zixu's workplace is no more than 800 meters from his home as the crow flies, and it takes him less than 10 minutes to walk home. As a result, even though he gets off work at 5:30, he often doesn't get home until after 6:00.

It's not because my workplace requires a lot of overtime.

There's a yard downstairs in his building, surrounded by neatly trimmed shrubs, with a flat sandy area and red and blue exercise equipment. Perhaps because of the amount of dog poop, it's usually not very crowded.

Prince Xu once disliked dog poop and didn't want to come here, but later he discovered that this small territory guarded by dog ​​poop was his dream place.

This place is both close to his life and work, yet also a distance away, so sitting here allows him to detach himself from both and objectively examine his life.

After get off work, he would sit on that squatting machine, light a few cigarettes, and in the swirling smoke, he would think about death countless times, and also about why he was born.

Since he was destined from birth to be unable to reach his dreams or pursue his passions, then why was he born in the first place, and why did he grow up to look like this? If there is a God, why would He throw so many frustrated and unfulfilled people into this crucible to suffer? What is God after?

He thought, if God were an official, that bastard would definitely say, "I'm only giving you a chance to live. I don't guarantee how you'll live; I only guarantee you'll die. You either accept it or you give it up, but always remember, if you don't live, plenty of others will."

But he didn't understand. He didn't understand why some people were born with three houses when everyone was born naked, or why some people lived the life they wanted without lifting a finger; while he lost his mother when he was 8 years old, and lost the courage to live when he was 28, spending his days with dog poop.

Of course, living with dog poop was his choice. The life he has now is entirely his own. He has nowhere to voice his grievances; to do so would be considered melodramatic. Because he is a man, and for men, money and power are a given. Life may seem like a choice, but some things are already predetermined.

When he thought about death, he was actually at peace with it; all that was left was to convince himself. Since that damn thing had guaranteed his death, it didn't really matter whether he died today or 50 years from now. Since he was going to die anyway, he might as well do something he liked before he died.

He actually hates drinking and socializing. These two things should be excluded from his life from the start; asking him to do them is worse than dying. There's no point in pursuing a change of identity anyway; whatever the identity, he's just being manipulated.

He suddenly realized that before becoming a civil servant or a public institution employee, he should be a literature enthusiast. Instead of agonizing over whether he should be a civil servant or a public institution employee, he should focus on doing what a literature enthusiast should do.

So he began to read—Chinese, Russian, European, American. He read and read, countless times lamenting for Lu Xun, for Tolstoy, and for all the great writers who hadn't received the Nobel Prize. The fact that the Nobel Prize isn't awarded to the dead isn't just a tragedy for the dead, but a regret for the living.

But then he suddenly had a change of heart. Since the Nobel Prize isn't awarded to the dead, he could think of it the other way around: as long as he was alive, he had a chance to win it. This thing wasn't originally written in someone else's name. If he could live another 50 years, he'd have 50 more chances to win it. So why was he so sure he couldn't?

At that moment, he seemed to see the boundless universe, all living beings under heaven, and himself, insignificant amidst the bustling crowd. He saw all life on earth, heading towards death, growing vigorously.

He saw Tolstoy, he saw Lu Xun, he saw Lu Xun's lips move, and he said to him: "In the midst of passionate singing, I feel a chill; in the heavens, I see an abyss. In everything I see, I see nothing; in despair, I find salvation... When I become dust, you will see my smile."

He couldn't make his future life the way he wanted, so he decided to live the life he wanted every single day.

……

When Prince Xu came out of the government office building, the sun was shining brightly and the streets were bustling with traffic.

He had just turned down an opportunity to enter the heart of power, but he didn't regret it. He walked down the street full of hope, amidst the bustling crowds. He felt relaxed; there couldn't be a better day than today.

The small city unfolded before his eyes, revealing its inner workings. He hadn't lost to this city today either. Gazing at the distant horizon, he felt only that the vast world held immense potential.