Daily Musing

December 24, 2025

In the pursuit of our goals, we must remember that we are ourselves, and others are living their own lives. We do not follow in their steps.

January 29, 2026

If you are about to say something that may be different or threaten your conversation partner’s identity, be it their career, social standing,  world views ( moral, ideological, political), hold your tongue; otherwise, you will not only risk losing a friend but also create a vehement enemy.

January 30, 2026

中国人惯于用“历史”来评判伟人，所谓“功过自有后人评说”。而在现实中，那些御用文人、当下的公知大V，则更偏爱借助宏大叙事来标榜自身的道德高度。

疫情期间，一些公知拉群鼓动赴泰购房，最终因购房者无产权而引发纠纷，闹得沸沸扬扬。油管红人“王局”曾采访其中一名自称“土家野夫”的购房中介。此人在采访中将自己的行为描述为类似“诺亚方舟”的无私之举，声称是出于拯救国内中上产阶层免于封控困境的情怀，却对自己在这一“高尚行为”中获取高额中介费的事实避而不谈，更将作为中介方本应承担的责任撇得一干二净。

我听后只觉荒谬：“诺亚方舟”如何能与“房产中介”相提并论？
这种高尚情怀与宏大叙事，不过是用来掩盖商业合同纠纷中应当承担的责任与后果的遮羞布。

无独有偶，近日年仅32岁的程序员高广辉猝死，去世后仍在深夜收到原公司摊派的工作任务。家属表示强烈不满，并考虑以工伤事故索赔。随后，一段公司HR员工的音频流出，她开始调动另一套宏大叙事：“我在公司11年，为什么一直在这里？因为我们觉得有成长，付出能得到回报。”“即使有一天我真的死了，也不会觉得遗憾，也不希望我的老公拿着我的生命去换钱。”

音频中，她还强调公司对高广辉“非常器重”，称其作为管理层，“工作中的担子肯定有，但生活中难道没有担子吗？” 这种说辞，正是许多中国人从小被灌输的“为大我敢于牺牲小我的叙事”的自然流露——爱党、爱国、爱人民，“小我”的价值只能在“大我”中实现，作为“小我”只是一颗棋子，一个蝼蚁，一个“nobody”。结果是，时代到底有了进步，这名HR成了舆论的替罪羊，被迫辞职，而真正的结构性问题却被再次掩盖。

必须承认，在经济高速发展的阶段，高强度工作、追求高收入，本身并无原罪。高收入与轻松工作不可兼得，这是现实。但问题在于：责任不能被叙事抹除。

中国的市场经济实践不过四十余年，许多人头脑中的观念仍停留在计划经济时代“人人当家作主”的幻觉中，而身体却早已被卷入彻底的市场逻辑。他们以为自己是国家的主人，实际上却只是资本链条中的可替换的齿轮。

在这种现实下，作为“牛马”，猝死、过劳死固然令人惋惜；家属依法索赔，同样合理合法。此次事件之所以被媒体反复放大，恐怕并不完全是出于人文关怀，而更可能是因为公司未为员工配置“人身意外险”等在西方职场早已成为常态的风险对冲机制。

说到底，宏大叙事不能替代合同责任，道德表态也无法抵消制度缺位。

English Version

Chinese people are accustomed to judging great figures through the lens of history—“their merits and faults will be assessed by later generations.” Yet in real life, established intellectuals and today’s public-opinion influencers are far more inclined to rely on grand narratives to elevate their own moral standing.

During the pandemic year, several well-known opinion leaders organized groups to promote property purchases in Thailand. These deals later erupted into disputes when buyers discovered they had no actual ownership rights. The controversy drew widespread attention. A YouTube commentator known as “Wang Ju” interviewed one of the intermediaries involved, a man calling himself “Tujia Yefu.” During the interview, he portrayed his role as a real estate broker as a kind of modern-day “Noah’s Ark”—a selfless mission driven by sentiment and moral responsibility, supposedly aimed at rescuing China’s upper-middle class from the dangers of lockdowns and social instability. Conspicuously absent, however, was any mention of the substantial commissions he earned or the legal responsibilities he bore as an intermediary. These were brushed aside entirely.

I found this baffling. How does “Noah’s Ark” have anything to do with being a real estate agent?
Such lofty sentiment and grand narratives function merely as a fig leaf—used to obscure and evade the concrete responsibilities and consequences that arise in commercial contract disputes.

A similar pattern appeared recently in the case of Gao Guanghui, a 32-year-old software engineer who died suddenly at work. After his death, work tasks from his former employer continued to arrive late at night. His family expressed strong dissatisfaction and indicated they might pursue compensation on the grounds of a workplace-related death. Soon after, an audio recording circulated of a company HR employee invoking yet another grand narrative: “I’ve been at this company for 11 years—why? Because it helps with personal growth, and our efforts are rewarded.” “Even if one day I died, I wouldn’t feel regret, and I wouldn’t want my husband to exchange my life for money.”

In the same recording, she emphasized that Gao was highly valued by the company and described him as part of management, adding, “Work certainly comes with burdens, but doesn’t life itself also carry burdens?”
This line of thinking reflects a worldview deeply instilled in many Chinese from a young age—the primacy of the “greater good.” Loving the Party, the country, and the people, individuals are taught that the value of the “small self” exists only insofar as it serves the “big self.” The outcome was predictable: the HR employee became a convenient scapegoat and was forced to resign, while the deeper structural problems  went unaddressed.

To be clear, during periods of rapid economic growth, working hard and striving for high income is not inherently wrong. High pay and an easy job are rarely compatible—this is reality. But responsibility cannot be erased by rhetoric.

China’s experiment with a market economy is less than fifty years old. Many people’s minds remain stuck in the illusion of the planned economy, where “everyone is the master of the nation,” even as their bodies have long been fully emersed into the  market economy. They still imagine themselves to be owners of the state, when in fact they are little more than replaceable labor within a capitalist system.

Under such conditions, deaths from overwork are tragic; families seeking compensation are entirely reasonable. The reason this case has been amplified so relentlessly by the media is likely not pure humanitarian concern, but rather that the company failed to provide basic safeguards—such as life or accident insurance—that have long been standard practice in Western workplaces.

In the end, grand narratives cannot substitute for contractual responsibility, and moral standing cannot compensate for institutional failure.