I stumbled upon a video titled "The So-called Enlightenment at Longchang, Probably Just Like This"1, and since I've recently been learning about Wang Yangming, I clicked on it out of curiosity.
In the video, a slightly overweight young man is being interviewed. This young man is not particularly good-looking, but his eloquence is extraordinary. I was a bit surprised; who is this chubby guy? Later, I found out that he is the author of "Those Things About the Ming Dynasty," the real "Bright Moon of That Year"—no wonder he is so talented, my apologies.
His calmness and confidence in speech reminded me of two old friends: one has passed away, and the other is no longer in contact. Since leaving school, I often think of these two friends. I felt a kind of wisdom and brilliance in them, along with youthful passion that I found hard to match.
Out of respect for the deceased and to protect the privacy of the living, let’s refer to them as Mr. A and Mr. B.
Mr. A#
Mr. A came from a troubled family; after his parents divorced, he was raised by his father. However, his father was often away, and he grew up with his grandmother. On the day of his funeral, his biological mother even showed up at the ceremony demanding money. Although I couldn't attend the funeral to pay my respects, I couldn't help but sigh whenever I thought of such a fate.
Mr. A was a very ambitious person. In high school, his grades were much better than mine, and he studied diligently. He majored in a less common language in college, dreaming of becoming a diplomat and serving his country, but his life was tragically cut short in his twenties. Mr. A and I often discussed history and politics, but I could never out-argue him.
Mr. B#
Mr. B was a very articulate person, possessing the sentiment of a literati. He wrote beautiful calligraphy, enjoyed reading classical texts, and composing ancient poetry. I still occasionally see his seven-character regulated verses on social media—it's at a level I can no longer comprehend.
I spent the most time with Mr. B, and we were the most like-minded, or perhaps we just clicked. At that time, we were both taking extra classes at the same teacher's house, and during our free time, we would boast and engage in grand discussions. We talked about astronomy, geography, and girls—nothing was off-limits. He knew a lot, and I gained considerable insight from him. His first college entrance exam didn't go well, and at his family's insistence, he attended a military academy. After about half a semester, he returned to retake the exam and successfully got into his desired university the second time. To someone like me, who didn't even make it to the undergraduate line and had to repeat a year, that seemed legendary. He majored in finance and might already be a financial elite in Lujiazui.
Us#
The commonality between these two friends and me is that we all loved reading and playing. When we were together, we often discussed games and books. I was the best gamer among the three, which made me a bit smug. Mr. A was never short of female admirers; he often shared some taboo topics from his personal experiences that made me blush and my heart race, but I envied him. Mr. B had a unique way of thinking and always had special insights on various matters. I was amazed at how smart he was. He was also the kind of person who could achieve good grades effortlessly. When we skipped classes to go online, my studies declined, but his improved, which made me quite envious.
Conflict#
These two friends had a clash during a debate competition in high school. I don't know what got into the principal at the time, but he wanted to promote debate competitions in the school, requiring each class to participate. Someone nominated me, but I was always proud and thought it was just formalism, so I looked down on such activities. On the day of the final debate, which was the last class of the afternoon, the principal surprisingly announced that we could skip class to watch the debate, so I went. To my surprise, the two friends were sitting on stage.
The debate was thrilling; I’ve forgotten the topic, but I still clearly remember the scene and the feelings. No one was able to overpower the other. When one side presented a highly aggressive viewpoint, the other side always managed to cleverly defuse it, like in a badminton match where one side strikes hard, and the other skillfully retrieves it. I was in the audience thinking about how to respond to the debaters' attacks. Mr. A was always fierce in his arguments, and some of his points left me speechless. I didn't know how to respond, which was normal since I often couldn't out-argue Mr. A. However, Mr. B turned to cite references, cleverly resolving the situation, which caught me off guard; his mind was still so sharp. When the competition ended, the applause was thunderous and lasted a long time.
I was engulfed in a profound shock and shame. I was shocked by the outstanding performance and talent of these two friends and ashamed that I was just watching from the sidelines without participating in the competition. I also felt ashamed for thinking I was inferior to these two friends.
After that, we gradually drifted apart. My inferiority complex ruined our friendship. I always felt they had soared to broader skies while I was trapped in my own youthful troubles. Early romantic relationships and gaming addiction derailed my studies, leading to failure in the college entrance exam, and after repeating a year, I only managed to get into an ordinary university. I felt lost and far inferior to these two friends. I recalled Hesse's "Beneath the Wheel" and wondered when we had opened such a wide gap.
Inferiority and Transcendence#
When I heard the news of Mr. A's death, I felt a deep sense of impermanence. He died suddenly from a heart attack late at night, leaving behind unfulfilled dreams. Such an outstanding person fell just like that, and I felt emptiness and regret for not having talked to him more. This was the first time in my life I faced the death of a friend, and afterward, thoughts of emptiness constantly circled in my mind. I couldn't understand death or the meaning of life. His departure had a significant impact on me, prompting me to reevaluate my life and ponder the meaning of existence.
I picked up books again, searching for answers to the questions I couldn't comprehend.
During the New Year, I gathered with another old friend and we drank together. After a few rounds, we were both a bit tipsy. He said he envied me greatly, admiring my carefree nature, my thoughts, my successful career, and my happy marriage, unlike him, still wandering outside at this age, worrying his parents.
I suddenly felt indifferent; wasn't this just like how I once envied those two friends?
In Haruki Murakami's novel "Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage," Tsukuru Tazaki always believed he was a colorless person. He felt inferior to his colorful friends, whose worlds were vibrant while his was dull and gray. But in the end, he discovered that he already had his own colors; he just lacked the courage and confidence to recognize them.
Inferiority and envy are merely projections of others' brilliance into our own shadows. We are never colorless individuals; we just haven't discerned our own light.
The early death of Mr. A and the departure of Mr. B did not strip anything from my life. On the contrary, they, in their own ways, became a part of my growth journey. I will always cherish their memories.
I have also developed my own personality and walked my own path. I no longer envy others; I am myself.
The bright moon of that year has long gone, and the bright moon of today has already risen.