In the past, I heard the elders say that the hardships and blessings one experiences in life are all counted. Now, I have come to understand this after a full cycle of sixty years.
While understanding this saying, I also realized a fact: life is inherently filled with contradictions and challenges, and it is never smooth sailing. Just as my husband and I were growing together through storms, he fell ill, passed away, and fell behind.
The anxieties and worries that once lingered in my heart, the pain and affection, fell like harvested grain in autumn, scattered on the ground. In their place came sadness, longing, guilt, regret, frustration, and despair… All of these transformed into unripe fruits, weighing heavily on me. At the same time, a new sense of helplessness and despair loomed in my heart. Whether I pounded my chest in grief or cried out in anguish, one fact stood before me: the pillar that once gave me strength was no longer there, and I would have to face the various challenges of life alone.
Day by day, I turned my days into months, my months into years, and my years into memories. Those fruits, I would throw one away today and pick it back up tomorrow, continuing this cycle. After two and a half years, I found that I had thrown away more than I picked up, until on August 28, 2025, I finally discarded all the fruits. Although I did not transform like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, I no longer carried burdens as I moved forward.
On that day, I underwent a hysteroscopy. The procedure was very simple: I was admitted the day before, had the surgery the next day, and was discharged the following morning. The doctor dismissed this minor procedure, likening it to removing a thorn, saying: “You had the surgery last night; if it had been done during the day, you would have been discharged yesterday.” I was treated exceptionally well by the hospital for one night. That night, thinking about returning home alone, a wave of sadness washed over me, and my abdomen suddenly felt like it had been pierced by a needle, a sharp pain that made me feel the presence of sensors in my body for the first time.
While recuperating at home, I chatted with my dear friend and mentor, Director Guo Xiangdong, who mentioned that she had been feeling some bloating in her abdomen. Remembering her slender figure contrasted with her protruding belly, a wave of concern surged from my heart, and the sensor in my abdomen struck again with a heavy blow. A couple of days later, my close friend called to say she had been experiencing diarrhea for nearly two months and felt completely drained. My heart tightened at her concern for me, and a wave of sorrow hit me, as the sensor in my abdomen struck hard once more.
I sensed the power of the sensor; it transmitted in waves at the speed of light. Like a stone thrown into water, ripples spread outwards. What if there were a great storm? The waves would crash violently against the shore, one wave after another, gradually eroding the dam. If we compare the dam to our body, it could be devastated. I once experienced continuous diarrhea starting from the Laba Festival, feeling as if I had been hollowed out, thin as a wing, my whole body trembling. I had also experienced dizzy spells in the middle of the night, as if falling into an abyss, only to find no underlying disease upon examination at the hospital. Now, I finally found the culprit: this invisible, untouchable sensor, undetectable by B, X-ray, with sensitivity, transmission power, lethality, and strength.
As I connected the sensor with water and the dam, a vivid image appeared before me. There were water lilies on the surface, and idle fish beneath. The golden-red sun shone on the water, with mountains, trees, bridges, clouds, and even birds flying above reflected in the water. The surface resembled a magnificent landscape painting, and the dam stood peacefully, like an old man stroking his beard, gazing at the scenery in the water, his eyes hazy yet intoxicated.
For humans, just like the dam, we need such scenes to nurture our hearts.“A calm heart is like water, tranquility leads to far-reaching goals” is not only a beautiful landscape but also a state of life, an attitude towards life, and an essential ability on the path to health. There is no obstacle in life that cannot be overcome; the sun always shines after the storm. When you are at peace, the sensor will also be at peace. Conversely, the sensor will stir up trouble.
On June 28, 2023, I underwent an endometrial examination at the same hospital, and my endometrium was the same as five years ago, unchanged. The doctor recommended a hysteroscopy, and I smiled confidently. Stepping out of the hospital, I did not look back, my thoughts also not returning, as I gazed at the blue sky and silky clouds of Beijing on my way home.
Now, I have to look back, and I must pull my thoughts back to two years ago.
For more than two years, I have tried to turn my suffering into sweetness, arranging my home to be as bright as spring, preparing a feast for the children during festivals, ensuring that my home still has a festive atmosphere. I have tried to cultivate joy and minimize sorrow, but no matter how hard I tried and resolved, I found myself constantly contradicting myself, becoming a slave to my emotions. At times, I felt light-hearted, the world bright and open, as if floating on clouds; at other times, I was filled with sorrow, the sun shining brightly, the earth glaring white, feeling as if my heart had either flown to the sky or the sky had fallen onto my heart, causing pain and anxiety; sometimes, I would find joy in the mountains, firmly believing that good times would come; at other times, I would feel sorry for myself, deeply complaining about my fate.
I continuously self-guided, motivated, and released myself. I once stood triumphantly for my heart, striving to bathe in the light of a carefree heart, but life has shown me that the longer I walk through dawn and dusk, the more profound the longing becomes. Ultimately, the pain outweighs the normalcy, allowing the sensor to take advantage of the situation, causing the endometrium to thicken, forcing me to return to the hospital.
Now that I recognize the sensor, looking back, I see that life has been painful for me. However, throughout these two and a half years, the care and love from my leaders and colleagues, the understanding and tolerance from friends and classmates, have allowed me to traverse the beautiful landscapes of Xinrong, measuring the land with words, erecting monuments for the martyrs, keeping my sensors within a controllable range. For all this, I must be grateful, respectful, altruistic, compassionate, and remember.
Having written so much, I am not summarizing life but using my life experiences to awaken myself and tell those who are deeply mired in the mud and striving for life to persevere, respect life, and avoid triggering the sensors. I firmly believe that everything will get better; if it hasn’t improved, it’s because we haven’t reached the end. For every storm fate brings us, it will return us with as many springs; for every hardship we endure, there will be as many blessings in the future. I believe that all beauty lies on the road of perseverance through wind and rain, rushing towards you and me.