Today is September 19, 2026. It marks the end of a stretch of leisure and the beginning of a busy life: school is starting, and summer break is over.
People say the best measure of how much you enjoyed a period of your life is how quickly it went by. For me, this summer seems to have passed in the blink of an eye. I can still vividly remember my family picking me up in June; it feels like yesterday. Judging by that sense of time, I can say this was an immensely comfortable summer, with very little to worry about.
Looking back, I could sum it up like this: the daily routine of an old man, the diet of an athlete, and the reading habits of a sage. But that is just a way of putting it. I am neither a composed old man nor a disciplined athlete, much less a wise sage.
Exercise and reading took up most of my summer. Through training, I managed to gain eight kilograms, bringing my weight to seventy-five. My ultimate goal is eighty-five, though, so there are still plenty of dumbbells to lift and plenty of meals to eat.
What I really want to talk about is how reading has changed me. This summer I read ten books: Crime and Punishment, Walden, Someone to Talk to, Anna Karenina, A Salty Joke, One Day, Three Autumns, Sandalwood Death, A Late Bloomer, Lu Keming’s Secret Smile, and Big Breasts and Wide Hips. There was Russian literature and American literature among them, but it was our own Chinese literature that changed me most profoundly. I read a great deal of Mo Yan and Liu Zhenyun, and I did not stop there: I also listened to all their interviews online. I have long had a habit of falling asleep to audio, so every night this summer, the voices of Mo Yan, Liu Zhenyun, and Yu Hua accompanied me into sleep. I have always felt that writers’ work nourishes my inner life. When I am physically exhausted, I listen to their interviews to ease the fatigue; when I am bored, while driving, for instance, their voices make the journey more interesting. Beyond reading their books and listening to them, I also went to see Mo Yan and Liu Zhenyun in person. Anyone who has ever followed a favorite star will know the feeling, so I will leave it at that. We all need something to sustain us inwardly. It might be a writer, a singer, an athlete, or an entertainer. More than that, though, we need to build an inner source of strength for ourselves, and reading is the best way I know. Reading helps us mend our understanding of the world, enriches our thinking, and turns our search inward. Everything outside us is unstable. Only peace within can endure, and it is something worth striving for, for every one of us.
I am taking three books with me to America this time: War and Peace, Red Sorghum, and Life and Death Are Wearing Me Out. Originally I meant to bring only War and Peace. Books are heavy and awkward to carry, especially on an international flight. Once abroad, it is hard to find legitimate copies of Chinese literature, and I have also grown accustomed to avoiding ebooks, so paper books are a must. What made me decide to add two by Mo Yan? As summer approached, I finished Big Breasts and Wide Hips, and felt reading change my writing in a way I had never experienced before. The day after finishing it, I was walking through the streets of Beijing at noon when I wrote this: The midday sun, like a boiled egg peeled of its shell and stripped of its white, hung high and round and unabashed at the very top of the sky, radiating the heat it took such pride in, as though it were the only warmhearted presence left in this chilly society. I knew very clearly that this was Mo Yan’s writing at work. I was imitating a master’s imagination and style. And, more faintly, I began to suspect that I might have a talent for writing myself. I have always had an urge to express myself. From 2017 to now, nearly ten years, there has not been a day when I ran out of things to say or words to type into WeChat Moments. The love is there. If I have the talent and the drive as well, literature is a path I want to take. That is why I have to bring two of Mo Yan’s representative works: to keep feeding my imagination as a writer, and to do what I can now to lay a bright, open road toward becoming one someday.
One last thing: I want to share a crazy idea. Back in March, I was already considering living in my car when school started. A friend wanted us to rent a place together, and we went to look at some homes. At the end of that day, I texted him: I might live in my car, so be prepared for the possibility that I cannot be your roommate. Right now, I would put the chances at thirty percent. As time went by, that figure crept closer and closer to a hundred. When I saw him again, he said, “That does sound like something you would do.” I laughed. “Life needs a little adventure.”
Yes, I see this crazy plan as an adventure. We need adventures in life: they toughen us up and teach us to solve problems. Living in a car will bring plenty of those. Where do you shower? How do you wash your clothes? How do you get a comfortable night’s sleep? And so on. Of course, I already have plenty of possible solutions in mind. I have always believed there is no problem in this world that cannot be solved. If there is a problem, there must be a solution. Otherwise, it would not be a problem.
I still remember the day I picked up my car. I went straight to IKEA, bought a big fluffy comforter, and slept in the car that very night. I bought a Tesla, which has Camp Mode, so unlike a gasoline car, it is well suited to camping. Had I bought a gasoline car, the challenge would have been greater. A close friend told me he once lived in one for a month, and I could not help admiring him for it.
It is easy to romanticize things that have not happened yet. We imagine how wonderful they will be and overlook all the tedious little difficulties. When expectations are too high, the gap between them and reality makes us suffer more. That is why it helps to lower our expectations for most things. Set them a little lower, and the same gap can bring unexpected delight instead. I know very well that living in a car will be full of challenges. There will certainly be days when I fall apart and want to give up. So I will not romanticize it, and I will not give up lightly either. I know problems will come. I am ready to face them.
I had planned to wait until I had lived in the car for a while before sharing this. But I have decided to tell everyone now. Announcing it in advance should help me shake off the temptation to quit halfway through. It would be too embarrassing otherwise!
The months ahead will be an adventure, with plenty of ups and downs. But I have prepared myself, both physically and mentally. I have a mysterious strength that will help me weather every storm. That strength is literature: a pillar planted deep enough to steady the sea.
My flight to the other side of the world is about to take off. Let me leave one last thought for myself, and for all of you: let the heart be a great rock, unmoved by winds from any direction.
要政阳
September 19, 2026, Beijing