Chapter 1

Life, a fleeting century, and youth, ephemeral as it is. As a child nurtured in the rustic embrace, my inner self, akin to one endowed with wings, perpetually yearned to soar beyond the confines of the land that bore and raised me. A child of the countryside, I harbored curiosity and anticipation for the unknown realms of the bustling metropolis. In that era, when the internet, though not as advanced as today, had already permeated society, and computers were commonplace, the digital realm and television became my exclusive windows to the outside world. Naively, I believed everything to be as splendid as portrayed. Witnessing the kaleidoscope of lights and the allure of opulence on the television screen, I found myself deeply captivated. What is life like in the big city? Do its inhabitants possess their own plots of land, engaging in the cycles of sowing and reaping, admiring nature's beauty while bemoaning the toil of labor? Is it a realm where virtue is universal, doors remain unlocked at night, and the streets are free from abandoned possessions? With myriad expectations in tow, I resolved to venture forth, my future beckoning from afar.

Alas, for the first time, I discerned that the choices available to adults are indeed limited, and the pursuit of certain professions may not necessarily stem from genuine passion but, rather, sheer necessity for livelihood. It appears I am bereft of choices in the present moment, possessing only aspirations without a feasible means of realization. My own circumstances constrain the scope of my choices, and perhaps, the sole advantage lies in my youth. Being young, unafraid of failure, my spirit dauntless and untainted by scars, my singular focus is on breaking free, regardless of the challenges that lie ahead.

After careful consideration, I opted to join the construction site, apprenticing as a reinforcing steel worker. Allow me to elucidate briefly on this vocation: a reinforcing steel worker, as the name suggests, revolves entirely around the manipulation of steel reinforcements within the construction framework. It comprises laborers, apprentices like myself, reliant solely on physical prowess for remuneration. Typically, the tasks are assigned by the master, requiring minimal intellectual engagement. Strength and efficiency suffice, marking this group as the lowest-earning cohort on the construction site. Then there are the skilled artisans, individuals who, with experience, can lead a team and execute tasks based on blueprints. However, physical strength remains a prerequisite. In the past, it was glorified as one of the "top ten professions," but in my perception, it differs little from the laborers. At most, it entails possessing an additional measuring tape.

As an apprentice, I earned a daily wage of 60 yuan, working from six in the morning until six in the evening, totaling twelve hours each day. The responsibilities were straightforward—bearing steel reinforcements. Approximately 3-4 tons were transported daily, and during tight deadlines, the workload could double. We manufactured the materials required for constructing buildings and then moved them to the designated locations assigned by the master, collaborating on the binding process. I stood as the youngest amidst the construction crew, with others averaging an age of 35 or older. Life seemed devoid of joy for them, as they toiled together during the day, and in the evening, engaged in raucous banter devoid of dreams or aspirations. Only the timely arrival of wages each month mattered, a mechanized existence. Three years passed in the blink of an eye, transitioning from an initial 60 yuan per day to a steady 300 yuan per day.

Compared to the past, the advantage lay in the fact that I no longer needed to engage in hands-on labor. Armed with construction blueprints, I distributed the workload, ensuring no errors occurred before quitting time. At the age of 21, within our county, I stood as the highest-earning individual among peers of the same age. Many, akin to me in age, still relied on their families' finances. I concede that, for a time, I reveled in self-satisfaction. Nevertheless, life's joys eluded me, and the routine felt monotonous. Contemplating the omnipresent steel and concrete, surrounded by colleagues burdened with age, devoid of dreams and futures, I deemed my presence incongruous. The prevalent discourse amongst them often revolved around life's hardships, regrets, and a yearning for life to afford a second chance. In contemporary terms, my life resonated with negativity. Realizing I couldn't persist any longer, I bid farewell to my initial occupation. The desire to explore the external world, witness the resplendent allure of the urban landscape, persisted within. After a day of contemplation, my decision solidified—I would confer with my family and embark on this journey immediately!

People's envisioned scenarios are inevitably idyllic, idealized outcomes that often disregard the harsh challenges of reality. Upon returning home and deliberating with my family about leaving our hometown, I found myself honored to assume the role of the family member in opposition. They unanimously objected to my departure, citing a simple rationale: having ascended from a humble laborer to a master, my income had multiplied several-fold, and stability had been achieved. Shouldn't contentment prevail? What more could be gained by venturing beyond? The younger generation, averse to hardship, what would become of them in old age? They uttered the familiar refrain of "it's for your own good." I believe this represents a universal mode of parental education worldwide, the phrase "it's for your own good" akin to an exoneration medal, perpetually constraining a child's dreams. I refused to be myopic; I yearned to break free not solely for the sake of exploration but to alter the destiny of my lineage.

In my hometown, there exists a peculiar phenomenon—an incessant proclamation to strive in life, yet it invariably manifests in the form of accepting one's fate. Stability in employment, monthly salaries—the perceived zenith of life. At this moment, I refrain from further elucidation, as it serves no purpose. Nevertheless, I staunchly affirm my refusal to adhere to the predefined boundaries my parents had drawn for my existence. I possess my own life, a splendid future that I too deserve to embrace; I am determined to diligently pursue it. If I refrain from venturing forth, persisting in city life, I foresee the remainder of my days—marriage, progeny, and the cyclic ennui of an existence resembling a puppet. Decades hence, my children, like me, will repeat the toil of their forebears, devoid of prospects, bereft of dreams. The entirety of their lives will be devoted to survival, ignorant of the beauty life can offer. Contemplating this, I shudder with trepidation. This heartfelt conversation ended in discord, essentially with me doing the listening. Apart from initially stating my intention to leave, I remained silent. A sense of injustice and helplessness overwhelmed me; myriad words I wished to express remained stifled by misunderstood emotions. This marked my first decision to defy the wishes of my elders.

Eventually, I departed from my hometown. Several days elapsed since our last heart-to-heart, during which I diligently scoured online job postings from various companies. Beijing served as my destination—this was clear. Yet, my understanding of the city was minimal, derived solely from hearsay and news. I lacked any reference data, and I pondered how I, with only a high school education, could establish myself in that distant and unfamiliar city. Survival became my primary concern. I longed to hear my family's opinions, even if they had never visited the city themselves. Perhaps, at that moment, I merely sought a semblance of peace and motivation. As departure loomed, an inexplicable panic set in. The path ahead appeared fraught with storms, yet with a sunny disposition, unafraid of sorrow, I was determined to overcome any obstacles. Press on!

Over the past few years, my earnings were predominantly allocated to household expenses. Confronted with a barren domestic situation, the meager income proved a drop in the ocean, let alone the concept of financial independence. Before leaving, I still had to extend my hand to my parents for financial support as a travel fund. I likely disappointed them profoundly; at least in their eyes, I wasn't a compliant child. They reluctantly provided me with a meager 500 yuan, perhaps hoping to dissuade me. I understood their predicament; our family could not offer more. I secured an ostensibly lucrative job online, armed with the 500 yuan provided by my family, I embarked on this journey with a cheerful demeanor.

There was no reluctance, no lingering emotions—everything transpired with composure. For the sake of my dreams, I marched towards the battlefield of the future. Amidst the scorching summer, an absence of warmth pervaded my heart. Had I erred? People moved about in groups, perhaps, like me, harboring fanciful expectations for the future, yet unlike me, no one paid heed to my departure. Some, seeing my somewhat naive countenance, kindly advised, "Child, why are you alone? Where are your elders? You shouldn't wander without them." With a polite smile, I picked up my luggage and proceeded towards the platform.

Idealized outcomes often prove excessively idealistic, incapable of withstanding the harsh baptism of reality. Indeed, upon arriving at my destination, I was promptly schooled. On June 12, 2012, I disembarked at the Beijing Bawangfen Long-Distance Bus Station, marking the commencement of my journey as a participant in the northern drift. Brimming with excitement, I felt an internal surge of energy, convinced that I could alter the world. Contacting the recruiting party, I traveled directly to Muxiyuan, but unfortunately, the liaison was absent, requiring an hour's wait. In the throes of a new city, the initial freshness gradually waned, compounded by the fatigue of the journey. The stark reality emerged—a depletion of the 500 yuan I had brought. With the ticket costing 150 yuan, expenditures en route, essentials, and a mobile card, rifling through my pockets revealed a remaining sum of 130 yuan—not the worst scenario, at least sufficient for a hearty meal.

A tinge of disappointment, a touch of anxiety—I ignited a cigarette, observing the smoke rings wafting into the air. A myriad of emotions welled within me momentarily, and a profound sense of loneliness enveloped me. Yesterday, I was dining on my mother's home-cooked meals; today, I stood in an unfamiliar place, devoid of familiar faces, ignorant of the nature of the impending job. Would it unfold as smoothly as envisioned? If not, what course of action should I adopt? I found myself indecisive, with whom should I confer? The grand aspirations proclaimed before departing fractured in an instant, wavering in their resolute stance. In this indescribable mental state, I persevered through a challenging hour.

The phone rang, and I received a call from the recruiting party. Finally, I ascended the stairs and encountered the contact person. This marked the first formal interview in my life. Unsure of what to ask or say, I stood bewildered. It was the other party who broke the ice, initiating with simple greetings, followed by an overview of the salary package—9000 yuan per month (pre-established), contingent on obtaining a job qualification certificate. A 15-day training with the security company was required, and only they could provide the certification. These unexpected contingencies evoked a sense of resistance, but contemplating the rarity of such a high salary, I acquiesced. The security company was situated in a remote location, and even at that moment, I remained unaware of its name. Two individuals arrived to pick me up, offering reasonable accommodations. Suddenly, scenes reminiscent of television dramas flashed in my mind—“I've been deceived; they intend to control and restrict my freedom, then call my family for money…” Yet, these scenarios failed to materialize, and after confirming my identity, accommodation arrangements were made.

Contrary to my apprehensions, all transpired peacefully. Transitioning from initial disarray, I gradually adapted to my current role as a security guard. Considering this a temporary position, I eagerly anticipated the prospect of a job paying over ten thousand yuan after the 15-day training—delightful beyond measure. Rising early each day, I excelled in various security duties, exuding an inexplicable vigor, akin to an untamed force of nature. Observers regarded my work demeanor as a revelation, akin to discovering a new continent (at that time, I was unaware of the nature of security work and the challenges that lay ahead). The daily tasks were mundane and monotonous, yet time abounded. I suddenly recalled the scene from A Dream of Red Mansions, reminiscent of Liu Laolao's initial entry into the Grand View Garden—parallel to my own experience. With boundless curiosity, I harnessed a keen and inquisitive attitude, unabashedly seeking knowledge. After half a month of familiarization, I discovered that the Beijing I stepped into differed considerably from the Beijing I had envisioned.

In the blink of an eye, half a month has elapsed since my arrival in Beijing. Today marks a significant milestone as I conclude the preparatory training before officially assuming my high-paying position. After completing my assigned duties, I commence packing my belongings, fully prepared to embark on the journey toward my aspirations. As I make my farewell preparations, my team leader summons me to the office. "Xiao Li, it's been half a month here. How do you find it? Have you adapted well?" I respond, "Everything is quite satisfactory." The team leader remarks, "Among the many individuals here, you stand out. Your work is exceptionally diligent, and you possess a grounded demeanor. Frankly speaking, it's a bit difficult to part with you. Have you considered staying and taking on the role of a team leader, assisting in leading the team?"

I reply, "I appreciate your kind offer, but I have my own considerations. I still wish to return to my original workplace." The team leader acknowledges, "I see. That's alright. If you feel unsatisfied there, feel free to come back anytime. The position and conditions remain unchanged. Give me a call." I affirm, "Certainly." Why would I, someone set to earn 9,000, choose to stay here? Clearly aware of the substantial disparity, there's no conceivable reason for me to remain. Why complicate matters unnecessarily?

Arriving at my original company with enthusiasm, I discover it has already disappeared, implicated in fraudulent activities and sealed. Standing at the door adorned with seals, surrounded by others seeking justice like myself, the indescribable emotions and overwhelming disbelief render the scene surreal. Upon inquiry, I learn that everyone shares my fate—lured to Beijing through enticing high salaries, only to be "sold" to employers under various pretexts. None of this matters now. Dragging my suitcase, I reach the bus station, a mere hundred meters that take me ten minutes to traverse. I ponder, what is the meaning of my journey to Beijing? Why did the team leader speak to me like that before my departure? The answers seem on the verge of revelation, yet my inner turmoil persists, marked by elusive clues and apparent illogicality.

Curiously, I find myself disinclined to seek a plausible explanation from the employer at this moment. It is as though these circumstances have severed my connection to them. What I crave intensely now is someone to listen to me, even if mute—a semblance of understanding would suffice. Unexpectedly, Beijing harbors malevolent individuals, its streets are not uniformly pristine, and its nights are not universally illuminated. Contrary to imagination, the people here are not as amicable, and the moon is no rounder than in my hometown.

Observing the hustle and bustle, I sit on the roadside curb, genuinely feeling a sense of bewilderment. What should I do now? This bus station is intriguing. On this side of the road are buses heading to the train station, while across the road are routes back to the security team. I have 10 yuan left in my pocket— is this a divine choice? To stay or to leave? Fortunately, regardless of my decision, the 10 yuan can transport me to my destination. If I choose to return home, I'll need my family to transfer funds for a train ticket, as mobile transfers weren't prevalent then. Consequently, I'll spend the night in the waiting room, awaiting the arrival of funds the next day before purchasing a ticket back home. Thus, I face the ground and the sky, repeating the cycle of my forebears' lives. Of course, upon returning home, the losses may outweigh the gains. If I choose to stay, I'll have to return to the security team. I'm uncertain whether they were involved in the fraud, but to me, it's a form of deception at least. In the coming period, working alongside those who just deceived me is something I cannot accept.

The relentless march of time has witnessed my repeated attempts to dial a familiar number on my phone, only to erase it one after another. Two conflicting voices echo incessantly within my psyche: "What are you doing? Weren't you determined to change the fate of your family? Before venturing out, you scoffed at the life at home. Why flee in the face of a few challenges?" "Go back; this is not the place you should be. With nothing to your name, it's better at home."

Indeed, I aspire to alter the destiny of my family, but have I already failed without taking any action? Lacking connections and adequate financial support, how can I possibly stay here? Yet, if I possess nothing, should I not be fearless? What am I afraid of? I am determined to stay! Yes, I will remain in Beijing, endeavoring to transform my family's mode of survival through my own efforts. I am resolute in proving that I am capable; I have decided to stay.

How can I unravel the current predicament? I dare not even eat; or rather, I can no longer afford a meal. Reality once again pulls my thoughts back to the present. Setting work matters aside, having gone a day without eating, as the sky darkens, I must consider the issues of both sustenance and rest. If I do not eat, if I cannot witness the sun of tomorrow, what significance do those earlier thoughts hold? I pick up the phone, this time dialing the team leader's number. I remain silent, and so does he, leaving me disappointed once again. Eventually, I break the awkward silence: "Team leader, things aren't going well here, quite different from what I imagined. I'd like to return to work with you. Is that possible?" "Certainly, come back. It so happens you'll be on the night shift tonight."

When hope shatters, individuals are inclined to immerse themselves in the complex realm of their inner thoughts, seemingly evading the reality they are reluctant to confront. Yet, this is futile; no one genuinely cares about the depth of your sensitivity or vulnerability, even if you once approached the world with the utmost tenderness. In certain predicaments, it is inconsequential. The psychological disparity at that moment was truly substantial. I am uncertain if my choice was correct, but one thing is clear—I must survive here. The premise for a promising future is that when the future arrives, I am still standing.