“A fortunate person is healed by their childhood for a lifetime; an unfortunate person spends their lifetime healing from their childhood.” — Alfred Adler
Finally back in Beijing, and finally got to eat proper Beijing cuisine—was almost afraid I’d miss out this time 😢
I’ve been eating at Cuimanlou since elementary school. It accompanied me through my childhood, and after I left, it survived the pandemic too.
Without my even noticing, I grew up, and Cuimanlou turned 35.
The flavor is just as I remember—still my favorite roast duck place.
But what I’m really tasting here isn’t just duck—it’s nostalgia.
It’s the carefree joy of childhood, preserved in every bite.
Similarly, places like Bikao and Shishile hold so many memories.
Celebrations, gatherings—all happened there.
But time changes everything. Those original locations are gone now, the neighborhood around my elementary school completely transformed. I can barely remember how it used to be…
Memories may fade, feelings may settle, but the warmth of those good moments stays buried deep. They surface when we need them most—healing hidden wounds, giving us strength to keep going.
Time alone isn’t what tests a bond—it’s the connection between people that matters.
A true connection isn’t limited by time, space, or form.
Sometimes, just talking is enough to feel deeply linked. In those moments, nothing else matters—you just want to share the present with that person, willing to give your time and energy to make the memories you’ll create together even richer.
I’m grateful for a childhood that wasn’t perfect, but was far from bad.
It set a baseline—so no matter how much pain or shock I face, I hold to my principles, never losing myself entirely.
It laid a foundation for who I am—keeping me grounded, valuing harmony, yet standing firm when it’s time to fight for what’s right.
It witnessed my growth and paved the way for friendships that remain strong today—where every reunion feels just like old times, and we can still laugh over the same memories, comparing our different perspectives.
So here’s to all the teachers, friends, and classmates who shared those moments with me—even those I clashed with.
“Flowers may bloom again, but youth never returns.” What’s past is past; there’s no need to dwell on the pain.
Instead of sinking into loss or sadness, it’s better to ask:
Why did it hurt? What started it? How did it unfold? What could I have done differently? How can I avoid it in the future? What did I learn?
If I was at fault—I’ll own it and improve. But I won’t accept blame that isn’t mine.
What others do is not what’s important—staying true to yourself is.
What matters is defined by you.
Happiness is given by you.
Parents, friends, school—they can offer resources and emotional support, but that has its limits.
In the end, whether you stay stuck, move forward with purpose, or stumble toward an uncertain future—it’s your choice.
And only when you make that choice yourself can you move ahead with clarity and commitment—even if you choose to follow someone else, though that path may end in tragedy, like Lydia in Everything I Never Told You.
Life is a journey with no certain destination—a long “integral” race with countless demands.
Sometimes there are beautiful views, sometimes you have to sprint, sometimes you detour for resources, sometimes the road splits in many directions.
So before you reach the end, you’ll face confusion and pain again and again. But whether they come from others, the world, or yourself—they’re all part of the journey.
May we all learn to make our choices right, rather than obsess over making the right choice.
Stay true to your heart, and may you find what you seek.
— Xiao Chen Stories
June 20, 2024, 11 p.m.–1 a.m.
