On the day I resigned, many colleagues left gifts on my desk, but they didn't say anything. They just put down the gifts, looked at me, and left. The silence spoke volumes. A former supervisor with whom I had a misunderstanding came into my office, sat down, and watched me draw. He also didn't speak, watched for a while, patted my shoulder, and left. At that moment, I suddenly burst into tears.
The story didn't end there. Even after I left the company, many colleagues still recommended jobs for me, including my former supervisor, and even introduced me to a girlfriend. After returning home to Changchun, they chatted with me in the group chat every day, talking about life and work. The difference was that they didn't constantly ask about my next plans like my family did; they just quietly stayed by my side, waiting for my decision. A young man who had just joined the company added me on WeChat and said that on the day I left, he recognized me at a glance as he walked towards me, but he didn't dare to speak to me. I suddenly remembered him; I remembered his shy, hesitant expression, which also reminded me of myself when I first joined the company four years ago.
When I graduated from university, a few classmates and I hitchhiked from the north to the south. On our first day in Shenzhen, we rented a place near the west gate of Shenzhen University. On the third day, I started working. My first job was as a designer's assistant. I worked there for a year, feeling lost and overwhelmed, constantly busy, never leaving work on time, and never having a full weekend off. Like most recent graduates, the gap between my ideals and reality was too great, and I often felt resentful because of this disparity.
So, a year later, I quit my job, studied architecture, traveled around China for a short time, and then returned to Shenzhen. During that time, I made a living by doing freelance work or writing, without a stable income. Life was bleak; I couldn't even afford to rent a place with a water heater. Taking a cold shower was too painful, so every night I would run three laps around the neighborhood until I was drenched in sweat, then sprint upstairs for a cold shower. I lived a very environmentally friendly life.
Later, two good friends from university couldn't bear to see me like this and insisted on taking me to their newly moved-in home. While packing my luggage, I received another interview call from the top-ranked design company in the industry. Wearing shorts and a t-shirt, I turned to my friends, who were whispering and grinning mischievously. I slammed the phone down and said, "I knew you guys wouldn't let me stay for free, so you quickly found me a job, right?"
I turned my face away, pretending to sigh, but tears were already welling up.
Because the manager in charge of recruitment wasn't often available, I was called in for an interview that afternoon. Time was tight, and I was almost unprepared, only changing into a pair of long pants. On my way to the interview that day, I posted a Weibo post: "I only brought two pencils." That post is still online.
The opportunity was great, but I was nervous, so I thought that even if I didn't succeed, I could treat it as a learning experience and enjoy the process. I was already prepared to commemorate this experience. There were three rounds of interviews. The first round was with HR, an interview followed by a written test. The second round was with the company's senior director, a Q&A session based on the written test. The third round was with the department manager, discussing work and ideas. After the three rounds of interviews… The HR person came in again and asked when I could start work.
As I walked out of the company, I looked back for a long time. This was the company I'd dreamed of working for since college, the company I'd only ever dared to dream of before. I was finally here. I was finally working alongside some of the country's top product designers. Standing at the company entrance, I called my mom and said, "Be a little less harsh on me in the future; I might be about to make it big."
I worked at this company for over three years, growing from designer to team leader to project manager. I grew like a child, while my seniors and superiors came and went like a revolving door. They either started their own businesses or changed roles, from designers to CEOs. The company was like a military academy, constantly supplying the industry with top talent. Many people came, learned a lot, and left. Others saw the peak here and then left the industry, never to return.
My former colleague, Brother Kui, came from a wealthy family. He worked as a designer in Shenzhen for over three years without much success, so his parents forced him to return to his hometown of Changsha to take over the family business.
At the end of the year, Brother Kui returned to Shenzhen for business and happened to be there for the company's annual party, so he attended as well. My boss, seeing his former subordinates scattered, felt a pang of emotion. Slightly tipsy, he stood on the stage and said, "To put it nicely, we're designers in this industry. To put it bluntly, we're just draftsmen. But draftsmen have their own thoughts. It's not easy to stick to a craft, and it's not a good choice to make money this way. But I can't help it, I just love design so much, I love it so much."
Brother Kui, standing below the stage, like Mitsui Hisashi pleading with Coach Anzai, shouted to my boss, "Coach, I want to be a designer, I want to be a designer!"
We laughed along, but he burst into tears. Everyone toasted together, as if drinking away all their bitterness.
That day, my boss, drunk, held two bowls and kept time for the singing colleagues. Someone recorded it, and the video went viral. Everyone loved him so much. When I was like an ignorant fledgling facing the forest, he was the first person to teach me how to spread my wings.
When I didn't know how to refuse or accept unreasonable client demands, he taught me "firm concessions and tactful refusal."
When I didn't understand why designers should accept sales suggestions, he told me, "Let those who hear the gunfire make the decisions." When
I didn't understand why I, whose design skills weren't particularly outstanding, was chosen as a project manager, he told me, "For individualists, make them heroes. For team players, make them leaders."
More often than not, he wasn't like a leader, but more like an assistant, an ordinary senior colleague. He wouldn't correct me, but would simply watch me walk properly and then offer appropriate assistance. Because he knew that creation cannot be dogmatic, and there are no absolute right or wrong truths.
He was a highly advanced human being, a superior species with ability but no temper, emotions but no tantrums. He was always there, like a kind elder. Every time I passed him at the company, I would reach out to touch his beer belly, only to be met with his disdainful avoidance. We had misunderstandings and disagreements; he criticized me, yet also believed me, and ultimately we made up silently.
I was living too comfortably. As long as I did my job well, I could come and go as I pleased; my time was completely free. We messed up quite a few things, but the leaders just laughed it off. We achieved some successes, but those are all in the past. This comfortable life made me incredibly lazy. When I encountered a bottleneck, I would only run away, lacking the courage to face it head-on.
I'm not a smart person; my destiny is to need to put in several times more effort than others to achieve the same results. So I understand that only by taking risks can I learn more.
After I became completely familiar with the environment, and after I had grown accustomed to the bottlenecks of growth under my superiors, I accepted a friend's invitation to leave the company and start a new career, to see a different kind of work and lifestyle.
When I left the company, my boss asked me cautiously on WeChat, like a child: "Will you still do design?"
I said, "Yes, whether I work in this industry or not, I will always do design; I will persevere."
He replied with a smiley face, a very cute smiley face.
I attended the year-end party this year as well. The leader's speech was somewhat melancholic. He said that a person will likely change jobs five to seven times in their lifetime. Some people are lucky enough to dedicate their entire lives to just one thing—what a blessing that is! You know, very few things will truly accompany you throughout your life. Parents and children will eventually leave, and fame and fortune are fleeting. Only your loved ones and the skills you use to make a living will stay with you. Life is too short, and energy is limited. Even focusing on one thing might not be enough. Some people are born strong; they are destined to live extraordinary lives. But some are born silent; they only do things, saying nothing, simply walking the path—that is their life. At the beginning of the new year, whether you leave or stay, I hope you all find your destined person and your destined destiny.
Then he wrote on the New Year's wish wall: "I hope that our past is worth remembering and forgiving, that our present is worth affirming and encouraging, and that our tomorrow is worth praising and anticipating."
Watching his back as he wrote, I silently said, "I want to catch up with you, I want to become you, that's why I left you, that's why I left you."
As I read, my eyes welled with tears, and I silently asked myself, "How many more farewells must I endure, how many more people must I lose, to become a better person, to do something worthwhile?"
That day I drank quite a bit, and that night I dreamt of the days when I was twenty, painting murals in the Prince's mansion. I was like a guard in the mansion, wielding a sword, protecting the dignity left behind by the passage of time. I also dreamt of wandering by Qinghai Lake, and the horse I bought for five hundred yuan. I so missed the days on the road. It turns out that what kept me going was nothing more than a little expectation for the future and a little suspense about life.
On New Year's Day, at the airport, I thought that every year's year-end summary and New Year's outlook were the same, nothing more than eight words: "Seeking but not obtaining, persevering without giving up." Just like my dad said, it's better to be your own ocean than to set sail on a distant voyage.
That night, the flight played my favorite movie, *The Curious Case of Benjamin Button*. After saying goodbye to his wife and daughter, Benjamin wrote in his diary to his daughter: "Be the person you want to be. There's no time limit to it. You can start whenever you want. You can change now, or you can stay the same. There are no rules. You can live your best life, or you can make a mess of it. I hope you live your best life. I hope you see things that amaze you. I hope you experience emotions you've never felt before. I hope you meet people with different perspectives. I hope you're proud of your life. And if you find you haven't achieved that, I hope you have the courage to start over, to start over."
Looking at my silhouette in the glass, I said, "Go pursue it, before the dust settles, after a brave farewell."
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