Language Exchange: Chinese ↔ English
Native Chinese here, seeking partners to practice English. I can teach you authentic Chinese in exchange.
Hobbies: traveling, reading. My go-to genres are philosophy, economy, politics and history. Always open to deep talks and casual chats alike.
Looking for long-term language buddies. Hit me up if you’re interested!
This is my second time reading To Live. I first picked up this book in the sweltering summer of 2023. When I closed it, all I felt was the overwhelming sorrow of Fugui’s life, weighed down by a heavy gloom. It seemed his whole life was nothing but endless endurance.
Yet rereading it now, my state of mind is entirely different. I have caught sight of faint glimmers of light tucked within the folds of suffering. Did Fugui never possess precious kinship? His wife Jiazhen embodied rare gentleness and fortitude in that era. On her deathbed, she said to him, “Our life is drawing to an end. You have been so good to me, and I have no regrets at all… We shall stay together again in the next life.” This nearly perfect farewell far surpasses all material poverty.
He also had his filial daughter Fengxia, his honest son-in-law Erxi, his innocent grandson Kugen, as well as kind villagers who lent a helping hand in times of need, though they were only passing acquaintances.
When a friend spoke of losing a loved one, the line Both Confucius and Robber Zhi end in dust came to my mind once more. The verse sounds like a profound question from the unseen: all lives meet the same end in the end.
Fugui’s words, “Sometimes I feel grieved when I think about it, yet sometimes I feel peaceful and assured,” embody the profound philosophy of ordinary people who see through life and death. Having bid farewell to all his loved ones with his own hands, he was finally freed from worldly attachments. This is not indifference, but a reconciliation with the absurdity of fate after weathering all joys and sorrows.
Only then can I understand Yu Hua’s writing. What he depicts is not merely the suffering of one individual, but every ordinary soul swept up in the tides of history—those who cannot choose their birth or era, yet still strive with all their might to simply live.
Living in peace today, with ample food and warm clothes, we enjoy a stability beyond Fugui’s wildest dreams. Yet the core meaning of “to live” never changes: the fleeting warmth of being with family, the rare sunshine amid ordinary days, and even the tolerance to refrain from fighting against fate when we have no choice.
Buddhism teaches that all arising is empty. All things shift and change; karmic connections gather and drift apart. To know that everything is fleeting is not to sink into pessimism, but to live each moment with clarity, understanding, and deep gratitude born from that understanding.
This is the most simple yet touching tribute that mortal beings can offer to the impermanence of fate.
I’m from China and recently started becoming interested in Russian language and culture.
I like Russian music, history, literature and the way Russian people communicate directly.
I hope to meet some Russian friends here and learn more about daily life in Russia.
If you’re interested in China, feel free to ask me anything too :)
Спасибо!