Necessity is the mother of invention

     Time carries memories, and life changes thoughts. When we become somewhat out of place, we realize we've grown up.

    Perhaps for an ordinary, unknown person, growing up is a helpless maturity. Because we are no longer protected by our parents, but must experience the meaning of life through self-reliance, whether through our own immense or insignificant existence. Perhaps a stroke of good fortune and sudden wealth can allow us to transcend the meaning of survival, but if so, wouldn't life lack the raw, sweat-soaked flavor of life?

    Growing up takes us away from our homeland, but maturity forces us to shoulder responsibilities. Life has always been like this, with rampant desires and rampant materialism. All we can do is prove ourselves through hard work and build our lives from scratch.

    When we enter society, we no longer have the protection of our parents. Because their sacrifices have already exhausted them, the rest of the road must be fought for by ourselves. When we enter this society, the bright lights and bustling crowds remain the same, as do the rich and poor. Perhaps for this society, our involvement is merely a cyclical, self-indulgent process, silent and uneventful. Ordinary life defines our inherent space; transcending it can only be considered a present plan, a future goal. Because of ordinariness, we become servants of money, slaves to material possessions. So-called freedom is nothing more than passive consumption after being exploited to create value, or perhaps just a tired arrangement that compresses sleep. Thus, ordinary people from the bottom of society become the true proletariat of the "moonlight clan" in this bustling city, becoming borrowers living beyond their means, becoming savers after careful budgeting and frugality, and then returning to being borrowers in a loan relationship with banks, because they have become mortgage slaves for decades in order to settle down in the city. The city is bustling; whether it's towering skyscrapers or luxury cars, they can only forever serve as a backdrop to the city. And we, this borderline group that belongs to both the city and the countryside, can only watch this city, which we may never have any connection with, even though we are currently in this city for a fleeting moment to make a living. Perhaps the only right we enjoy is a kind of envious observation.

    Therefore, we are dissatisfied with being someone else's dowry, because we yearn to perform our lives on stage, not to decorate others backstage. Although all jobs are jobs, frankly speaking, I think few people are willing to spend their lives as props on someone else's stage, even if we don't have the power to change that situation for a period of time. Thus, we are dissatisfied with being someone else's dowry, because those who make dowries are always the tailors and technicians, not the bosses who manage them. Although being a boss isn't easy, because it involves significant market risks and requires keen insight, we only see their huge profits and forget the market principle that profit and risk go hand in hand. Perhaps at this point, we feel envy or jealousy towards the rich, and our long-held conscience or thoughts undergo a fundamental change—a change to escape poverty and enter wealth.

    Life is so realistic; when we are neither geniuses nor millionaires, we face shackles that restrict our freedom. We are helpless because there are countless reasons to justify our willingness to make a living. For example, a woman at thirty years old, still without her first child, is still working in the city with her husband. They want to have a child. They could have it in the city, but they don't have much savings, because the cost of having and raising a child is too high now. They could have it in the countryside, but they don't want to leave their child with their parents. So, day by day, they miss the optimal age for women to have their first child, linking unknown risks with the potential for a better life to come. If they were asked to give up everything in the city and return to the countryside, they wouldn't be willing. Whether it's the inability to give up the superior life in the city, or the fear of returning to the land that gave them birth and raised them empty-handed after graduating from university, whether it's to prove themselves in the city, like others from rural areas, to settle down and completely end their perhaps five generations of poverty, or whether it's to mask the vanity of not being able to return home in glory, only by wearing this mask and acting according to others' wishes can we maintain a basic standard of living, moving forward slowly like a snail.

    This group is the foundation of the nation, the root of society. To survive, they take on various roles day and night, with money becoming their almost sole and paramount pursuit. To earn a relatively large sum from society, they leave behind worldly wisdom and profit-seeking, while keeping their true nature at home. Perhaps the warmth of home is the only thing they can enjoy and give in the world; after all, this warmth is pure, sincere, free, natural, and rooted in the blood ties of family. These people are actually somewhat better off, because they have a safe haven at home or someone to help others in need. As for those seemingly refined students, they weren't assigned jobs by the school after graduation, or at least not all were, and had to fend for themselves in society. They were new to the workforce, lacking work experience and capital for investment. (Of course, there are also students from wealthy families or with exceptional abilities who, through their entrepreneurial or professional skills, easily cross the employment threshold.) For these people, their salaries barely cover normal expenses, and often they are even struggling to make ends meet. For example, someone who, after working for several years, still needed financial assistance from their family to buy a computer to improve their design skills. Faced with increasingly fierce job competition, they fear losing their top jobs, yet are unwilling to remain mediocre for life. This inner conflict torments them, preventing them from moving forward. Coupled with their economic disadvantage, they benefit neither their families nor themselves.

    This type of person represents the dividing line between manual and mental labor in any city (of course, there may be some who were once relegated to manual labor and never returned to mental labor). Although most of them do jobs that may not be physically demanding, their wages are insignificant compared to those who perform even slightly physically demanding manual labor. Yet, a clerical job paying 800 yuan a month is in high demand, while a water delivery job paying 1500 yuan a month is unavailable. They live in the city, neither white-collar nor blue-collar, and certainly not considered residents of the city. National policy requires businesses to provide employees with three types of insurance (pension, medical, and work injury insurance), but their meager wages cannot afford to pay these contributions. If they paid insurance according to the national policy, their wages would probably not be enough to live on. So, faced with such a beneficial policy, they watched as those policies specifically targeting their own interests slipped through their fingers, all for the sake of keeping their jobs (of course, this only applies to a small number of small businesses). As for those small companies that did pay insurance, they only included those who did in the workforce. Others were simply paid but not officially employed. When relevant departments came to inspect, the bosses either pretended not to hear, or claimed they were interns and didn't need wages. Or...

    These people are at best just a group of migrant workers who have left their hometowns; they are often single because their income is barely enough to make ends meet, leaving little for dating or supporting a girlfriend who doesn't work. Meanwhile, their peers of the opposite sex who aren't idle are often already in relationships, sharing a life of starting from scratch with these low-level workers. They either become "leftover women"—white-collar or gold-collar workers—or use their youth and beauty to win over a wealthy man who can be their father, or they humbly seek out someone who belongs to the city, simply to become a genuine city dweller with a car and a house. As for those white-collar and gold-collar workers with some ability, they remain single, because it's difficult to expect these esteemed women to look at a group of impoverished people on equal footing. Thus, Singles' Day continues to belong to these perhaps middle-aged wanderers. Strictly speaking, these people are neither high-achieving nor low-achieving; their vanity is strong, even in their most wretched moments. To preserve their vanity, they would rather be refugees in obscurity than stoop down and start from scratch. They believe that because they are highly educated, they should project an image of high education, not a wretched and ugly reality. Thus, their illusory and unattainable ideals mold them into the "Julius Julien Sorel" of this era.

    Necessity is the mother of invention. No matter how down on our luck we are, when we know that one path is blocked, we must find another. As people with ideals, we should find a path that suits us to break free from the shackles of money, because only by "transcending wealth" can we rationally "enjoy life".