LaoChaofeng

A Blessed Woman Does Not Enter a Blessingless Home?

Sun, 17 May 2026 11:43:00 GMT

I once came across a WeChat status:

“A blessed woman does not enter a blessingless home.”

This phrase has become quite popular lately.

Many people take it as a sign of “clarity,”
as if merely uttering it places them on some kind of higher ground.

But over time, I’ve come to notice:

When some people talk about “blessings,” what they really mean is conditions.

They’re talking about houses, income, family background, and matching resources.
Only the word “pragmatic” sounds too blunt, so they swap it with “blessings.”

Translated, it probably sounds something like this:
“I do care about material conditions, but ‘blessings’ sounds more respectable than ‘pragmatic.’”

Truly blessed women are often not the best at filtering others.

They may not have been born into privilege,
but they are emotionally steady, know their boundaries, are well-mannered, and have empathy.

They understand what dignity means,
and they also understand what respect means.

They would never demand a partner’s family be “blessed”
while carrying their own burdens of resentment, scheming, and arrogance.

Because truly blessed people generally don’t wear their disdain on their sleeves.

They have seen hardship in the world,
so they know marriage is not about charity;

but for that very reason,
they understand even more:

A family’s greatest “blessing” is never money — it is the people in it.

It is about emotional stability,
whether the elders are reasonable,
whether everyone respects boundaries,
and whether they can hold each other up when things go wrong.

But what some people label a “blessingless home” is often just:

A home that cannot fulfill their vision of life.

They dress up “hypergamy” as “fate,”
and package “pragmatic screening” as “clear-eyed independence.”

But at the end of the day,
the kind of person you are will determine the kind of relationship you end up in.

So over time, I’ve increasingly come to believe:

Rather than saying—

“A blessed woman does not enter a blessingless home.”

It would be more accurate to say:

“People who belong together, end up together.”

[!TIP]
This article refers to a phenomenon: dressing up conditional screening as a sense of metaphysical superiority. It is not aimed at those who genuinely escape from violent or oppressive families — that kind of departure is self-rescue, and is not what this article is about.

Harsh but Not Teaching

Sun, 19 Apr 2026 11:03:00 GMT

It was Sunday and I happened to have some free time, so I went to visit a friend's small workshop in Guangzhou.

The act of scolding is his way of telling himself, "I am qualified now." Every shout seems to stabilize his position a little more.

In a corner of the workshop, I saw a somewhat familiar young man. He was speaking to a new employee, his voice loud and his tone harsh.

“What is this? Redo it.”

The new guy’s face flushed red, and he clumsily dismantled the work to redo it. The young man stood beside him, arms crossed, expressionless.

I remembered. The last time I came, he was the new one. Back then, he barely spoke, only giving a slight smile when greeted. When asked something, he would reply with just two words. My friend said he had been there for a month, learned the skills quickly, but was too quiet.

A month later, he began scolding others.

On the way back, I discussed this detail with my friend. He wasn’t surprised: “His skills are indeed fast, he can now work independently. Last month, two new employees arrived, and the boss asked him to guide them.”

“But he doesn’t really teach, he just scolds,” I said.

My friend smiled wryly: “A bit. Last time, a new employee quit because of his scolding. When the boss talked to him, he said, 'I went through the same thing myself.'”

This sentence stunned me. "I went through the same thing myself."
It’s like a spell that justifies the harm. Because he was drenched in the past, he now tears others’ umbrellas. Because he was yelled at, scolded, and treated without dignity, it’s now his turn, and all of this seems justified.

I thought carefully about what he was actually doing when scolding.

On the surface, he was pointing out mistakes. But on closer inspection, he was actually doing three things:

Confirming his own position
When he first arrived, he was the lowest, and anyone could say something to him. Now, with newcomers, he is no longer at the bottom. Scolding is his way of telling himself, "I am qualified now." Every shout seems to stabilize his position a little more.
Releasing pent-up emotions
In that month, he endured scolding, frustration, and suppressed all grievances without release. Now, with newcomers, it’s like a valve has been opened. Half of his anger towards the newcomer is actually directed at those who scolded him, but since he can't aim it upwards, he passes it down.
Avoiding real teaching
Teaching requires patience and the ability to break down knowledge into understandable steps, which is hard. But scolding is simple. Saying “wrong” is much easier than explaining why it’s wrong. Saying “redo it” is easier than demonstrating how to do it correctly. So he chooses the simpler path and convinces himself that this is how to guide someone.

Combined, these three points are the full psychology behind his scolding. It’s unrelated to teaching, it’s about people; unrelated to skills, it’s about emotions.

Another detail is striking: he allows almost zero tolerance for mistakes. The first time a newcomer makes a mistake, he explodes; if they ask a question, he is annoyed; if they are slow, he rushes them.

But think carefully: when he first arrived, wasn’t he starting from zero too? Did he know everything, do everything fast, and never ask questions on his first day? Of course not. He just forgot. Or rather, he selectively forgets. Once he remembers, he can’t scold so confidently.
Only by erasing the memory of “I was like this before” can he stand in that position and say impatiently, “You can’t even do this?”

I’ve seen many such “junior leaders.” They aren’t managers, but because they arrived three or six months earlier than newcomers, they are pushed into the role of guiding others. No training, no methods, no guidance on “how to teach someone.”
The boss just says: “Help them out.” Then they tough it out.

They don’t know how to teach because no one taught them how. They just repeat what they experienced—what others did to me, I will do to them.
Those who scolded me, now I scold you.
Those who only told me “wrong” without explaining why, now I just say “redo it.”
Those who gave me zero tolerance, now I do the same.

This is not evil. It’s foolish. It’s poverty. It’s the reality in this workshop, this position, this industry: there is zero education about “how to guide someone.”

Harsh but not teaching is worse than not teaching at all.

Without teaching, newcomers may learn more slowly, but at least they aren’t afraid. They can ask, make mistakes, and explore on their own.

But with harshness, newcomers face a double blow:

They don’t know what went wrong, and they are humiliated.
They don’t know who to ask—because the person who should guide them is scolding them.
They don’t know what to do—because the only feedback is “wrong,” not “what’s right.”
They even start doubting themselves—am I really that stupid?

Eventually, they leave. Not because the work is too hard, not because the pay is low, but because they cannot endure “not knowing what’s wrong while being scolded every day.”

And the one with zero tolerance won’t think they have a problem. They will say: “Young people nowadays quit after two words, they can’t handle it.”

Actually, teaching a newcomer isn’t that hard. Tell them the standard, don’t just say “wrong,” say: “This screw needs three and a half turns, too many will strip, too few will be loose.”

Show them once, let them see the correct way.
After they try, give feedback. If correct, say “Correct, like this”; if wrong, say “See, this is half a turn short, try again.”

These steps don’t require you to be particularly smart or articulate.

You just need to be willing to replace “scolding him” with “teaching him”,
Replace “figure it out yourself” with “I’ll show you”,
Swallow “why are you so stupid” and instead say “It’s okay, try again.”
And be willing to slightly expand the almost zero tolerance.
Even allowing three mistakes instead of one, or one extra question without rolling your eyes.

I know the young man isn’t a bad person. He is just using the only way he knows to face a role he was never prepared for.
When he scolds, arms crossed, expressionless, he is imitating what he has seen before.
He believes that’s what a “qualified person” should look like.
He doesn’t know there is another way.
The fuzzier his memory of how he survived before, the less patience he has for newcomers.

The problem isn’t him. The problem is the system that asks him to “guide” but never teaches him “how to guide.”
Before him, his mentor treated him the same way.
After him, if no one breaks the chain, those he trains will treat future newcomers the same way. Harsh but not teaching is hereditary; zero tolerance is hereditary.

The only way to break it is for someone to do things differently. Even if it’s just saying: “Come, I’ll teach you.”

I often think of that newcomer who quit.
When he left, no one thought it was their own fault.
The boss thought he couldn’t handle hardship, the young man thought he was too sensitive.
But maybe he just wanted someone willing to teach him.

Clumsy Performance

Mon, 30 Mar 2026 14:45:00 GMT

In my view, some people’s so-called “dominance” is nothing more than a clumsy performance.

Only daring to speak loudly in environments they are familiar with.

They habitually lace their speech with profanity. Every other sentence is “fuck your mother,” as if harsher words and a dirtier tone can make them seem intimidating.

But this kind of expression is never strength.

It is more like a cheap form of packaging.

People with real substance speak with boundaries. They don’t rely on rough language to create pressure, nor do they use emotion to fill the gaps in their expression.

Those who casually curse, however, are the exact opposite.

It’s not that they don’t know how to speak properly, it’s that they have no other way.

So they resort to the most primitive, direct, and cheapest tools— replacing logic with profanity, and stance with emotion.

This kind of “fierceness” is actually very light.

So light that it collapses the moment the environment changes; so light that it feels hollow in front of someone truly calm.

Because it has no substance.

It is nothing more than being louder, dirtier in wording, and more emotionally exposed. Beyond that, there is nothing.

To put it more bluntly—

this is a form of disguise.

A disguise for their insecurity, a disguise for their powerlessness, a disguise for the lack in their expression and understanding.

They fear being seen through, so they put on a show of force first; they lack confidence, so they use language to “hold up the scene.”

But the more they do this, the more they expose themselves.

Truly intimidating people rarely use profanity. Their tone is steady, their logic is clear, and they often appear restrained.

Yet it is precisely this restraint that makes them impossible to ignore.

And those who constantly curse— seem to be “pressuring others,” but are actually just “seeking attention.”

If so-called “dominance” needs profanity to sustain it— then it cannot stand at all.

It is not sharpness, but roughness; not strength, but loss of control.

A clumsy performance is clumsy because it cannot fool anyone.

No matter how loud the voice or how harsh the words, if the foundation is empty, it will remain empty in the end.

Only Beasts Bare Their Fangs

Mon, 30 Mar 2026 13:58:00 GMT

Some people speak with thorns the moment they open their mouths, and flare up the second an argument begins. The louder the voice, the harsher the expression, the more exaggerated the gestures—as if that alone proves they’ve gained the upper hand.

But to put it plainly, this kind of behavior looks a lot like a beast.

They explode at the slightest trigger, shout before they think, and constantly posture as if to say “I’m not to be messed with”— not because they are strong, but because they lack control.

The truly strong don’t need to bare their fangs. They don’t rely on volume to dominate, nor emotion to win, and they certainly don’t mistake losing control for presence.

Only beasts need to show their teeth to prove themselves.

And if a person knows only this way— then they are nothing more than a beast wearing human skin.

Those who bare their fangs are never the strong, but the ones who cannot control themselves.

I know a little bit of everything, but I don't belong anywhere

Sat, 21 Mar 2026 14:18:00 GMT

The more my skill tree grows, the further I drift from “ordinary people.”

I understand Python and Node.js, yet I can’t seem to fit into the world of “ordinary people.”

I once thought I was somewhat “special.”

Not that I was exceptionally capable, but the skills I had—Python, Node.js, CSS, PHP—allowed me to handle both frontend and backend, build websites, and write scripts.

That wasn’t all. I also did self-media, and I believed my video editing was better than most.

Transitions, color grading, timing—any random clip I edited looked more refined than those casually shot ones.

I even tried running a company myself—from registration, building the website, running operations, to eventually shutting it down. I went through the entire process.

I thought I was someone who had “substance.”

And those “ordinary people”—working long hours, scrolling short videos after work, sleeping in on weekends—what could I possibly have in common with them?

Until I actually sat among them.

What I thought was difference was really just a difference in skills

It started with a gathering organized by a friend. The people there were his colleagues and friends.

From a conventional perspective, they were the most ordinary group: working on construction sites, delivering food, working night shifts, doing physical labor.

Before going, I was mentally prepared, even carrying a sense of “downward compatibility.”

I thought, if we couldn’t talk about anything deep, I’d just treat it as experiencing life.

But when I got there, I realized I couldn’t join the conversation at all.

They talked about who had the best luck playing cards, what kind of beer tasted good lately, which short drama was addictive and how many episodes they binge-watched last night.

I couldn’t engage with any of it.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to—it was that I genuinely didn’t know how.

I tried to steer the conversation toward something I was familiar with—I mentioned I had been using Python to write a script to automate data processing,

and the air went silent for two seconds,

someone politely replied, “Oh, you work with computers,”

and then the conversation went right back to where it was before.

That was when I realized,

it wasn’t that they were rejecting me,

it was that I had lost the ability to connect with “ordinary life.”

The more skills I have, the narrower my circle becomes

I thought carefully about this.

The things I know—Python, Node.js, CSS, PHP—

each of them took a huge amount of time and effort to master.

I can use them to do many things—automate reports, scrape data, build small apps—

but fundamentally, these are all things one person can do alone in front of a screen.

The same goes for self-media and video editing.

From topic selection, script writing, filming, editing, to publishing,

I can handle the entire chain myself.

I enjoy this sense of control,

but it also means I increasingly don’t need to collaborate with others.

Even when I ran a company,

it was mostly me carrying everything alone—writing code, building pages, solving problems, thinking about growth.

It looked more “social,”

but in essence, it was still isolating.

The more my skill tree grows,

the further I drift from the lives of “ordinary people.”

It’s not about who is right or wrong,

but rather two completely different paths of growth.

Their lives revolve around daily physical labor, after-work distractions, and real-life pressures;

my life revolves around screens, code, and editing timelines.

There is no interface between these two systems.

Who am I, really?

That night, I sat alone for a long time.

I suddenly realized that the “experience” and “skills” I had always been proud of

were completely insignificant in another world.

Not because they are bad,

but because they only have meaning within a specific circle.

I had placed myself in an awkward position:

In the tech world,

I’m just a self-taught outsider,

not as good as those formally trained;

In the self-media world,

I’m neither influential nor a big name;

And in the world of “ordinary people,”

I feel like an alien.

I know many things,

but I don’t seem to belong anywhere.

This isn’t self-pity,

it’s a real confusion.

Skills gave me the ability to survive,

but not a sense of belonging.

I know Python,

but Python won’t accompany me to eat hotpot.

I can edit videos,

but editing won’t tell me “it’s okay” when I’m down.

Maybe the problem isn’t “difference”

Later, I realized something:

The problem isn’t that I’m different from others,

but that I treated “difference” as a source of superiority.

Deep down, I believed that

being able to code, edit videos, and even having run a company

made me somewhat “above” those who “just work a job.”

But when I sat among them,

that illusion of superiority collapsed instantly—

because in the most fundamental aspect of human connection,

I was actually the more awkward one.

They talk about playing cards,

because that’s how they relax;

They talk about what beer to drink,

because that’s their outlet after work;

They talk about short dramas,

because that’s the easiest way for them to get emotional stimulation.

And me?

My life consists only of code and videos.

What I call “experience”

is mostly information,

not life.

In the end

I will still continue writing code, editing videos, and creating content.

These are the things I enjoy,

and they are how I make a living.

But I won’t use them anymore to measure how “different” I am from others.

Skills are just tools,

not badges of identity.

A person who knows Python

and a person who drives for ride-hailing services

are essentially the same—

both are just trying to find their place in this world.

Not fitting into a certain circle

doesn’t necessarily mean something is wrong with me,

nor does it mean something is wrong with them.

It’s just that my skill tree hasn’t grown branches that reach toward them.

And branches

can grow, slowly.

Next time I sit with them,

I won’t talk about Python.

I’ll ask what short dramas they’re watching lately,

or what kind of beer tastes good,

and just spend some time together.

That works better than any skill.

PDF/Office Converter Python Tutorial

Sun, 08 Mar 2026 12:01:00 GMT

PDF/Office Conversion Tool Python Tutorial

1. Environment Setup

First, install the necessary libraries:

# PDF operation libraries
pip install PyPDF2==3.0.0
pip install pdf2image==1.16.0
pip install pdfplumber==0.10.0

# Office operation libraries
pip install python-docx==1.1.0
pip install openpyxl==3.1.2
pip install python-pptx==0.6.21

# Image processing
pip install pillow==10.0.0

# For PDF to image conversion and OCR
pip install pytesseract==0.3.10

2. Complete Conversion Tool Code

"""
PDF/Office Conversion Tool
Supported formats: PDF, Word, Excel, PPT
Implemented using free open-source libraries
"""

import os
import sys
from pathlib import Path
import logging
from typing import Union, Optional

# PDF processing
import PyPDF2
from pdf2image import convert_from_path
import pdfplumber

# Office processing
from docx import Document
from docx.shared import Inches
import openpyxl
from openpyxl import load_workbook
from pptx import Presentation
from PIL import Image

# Setup logging
logging.basicConfig(level=logging.INFO, format='%(asctime)s - %(levelname)s - %(message)s')
logger = logging.getLogger(__name__)


class PDFToOffice:
    """PDF to Office conversion utility class"""
    
    @staticmethod
    def pdf_to_word(pdf_path: str, word_path: str) -> bool:
        """
        Convert PDF to Word document
        
        Args:
            pdf_path: Path to PDF file
            word_path: Path to output Word file
            
        Returns:
            bool: Whether conversion was successful
        """
        try:
            logger.info(f"Starting PDF to Word conversion: {pdf_path}")
            
            # Create Word document
            doc = Document()
            
            # Extract text using pdfplumber
            with pdfplumber.open(pdf_path) as pdf:
                for page_num, page in enumerate(pdf.pages, 1):
                    # Add page number heading
                    doc.add_heading(f'Page {page_num}', level=2)
                    
                    # Extract text
                    text = page.extract_text()
                    if text:
                        doc.add_paragraph(text)
                    
                    # Extract tables
                    tables = page.extract_tables()
                    for table in tables:
                        if table:
                            # Create table in Word
                            word_table = doc.add_table(rows=len(table), cols=len(table[0]))
                            for i, row in enumerate(table):
                                for j, cell in enumerate(row):
                                    if cell:
                                        word_table.cell(i, j).text = str(cell)
                            doc.add_paragraph()  # Add empty line
                    
                    # Page break
                    if page_num < len(pdf.pages):
                        doc.add_page_break()
            
            # Save Word document
            doc.save(word_path)
            logger.info(f"PDF to Word conversion complete: {word_path}")
            return True
            
        except Exception as e:
            logger.error(f"PDF to Word conversion failed: {str(e)}")
            return False
    
    @staticmethod
    def pdf_to_excel(pdf_path: str, excel_path: str) -> bool:
        """
        Convert PDF to Excel (mainly extract tables)
        
        Args:
            pdf_path: Path to PDF file
            excel_path: Path to output Excel file
            
        Returns:
            bool: Whether conversion was successful
        """
        try:
            logger.info(f"Starting PDF to Excel conversion: {pdf_path}")
            
            # Create Excel workbook
            wb = openpyxl.Workbook()
            
            with pdfplumber.open(pdf_path) as pdf:
                for page_num, page in enumerate(pdf.pages, 1):
                    # Create a worksheet for each page
                    ws = wb.create_sheet(title=f"Page{page_num}")
                    
                    # Extract tables
                    tables = page.extract_tables()
                    if tables:
                        for table in tables:
                            for row_idx, row in enumerate(table, 1):
                                for col_idx, cell in enumerate(row, 1):
                                    if cell:
                                        ws.cell(row=row_idx, column=col_idx, value=str(cell))
                    
                    # Extract text
                    text = page.extract_text()
                    if text:
                        ws.cell(row=len(tables) + 2, column=1, value="Extracted text:")
                        ws.cell(row=len(tables) + 3, column=1, value=text)
            
            # Delete default worksheet
            if "Sheet" in wb.sheetnames:
                wb.remove(wb["Sheet"])
            
            wb.save(excel_path)
            logger.info(f"PDF to Excel conversion complete: {excel_path}")
            return True
            
        except Exception as e:
            logger.error(f"PDF to Excel conversion failed: {str(e)}")
            return False
    
    @staticmethod
    def pdf_to_ppt(pdf_path: str, ppt_path: str) -> bool:
        """
        Convert PDF to PPT (each page as a slide)
        
        Args:
            pdf_path: Path to PDF file
            ppt_path: Path to output PPT file
            
        Returns:
            bool: Whether conversion was successful
        """
        try:
            logger.info(f"Starting PDF to PPT conversion: {pdf_path}")
            
            # Create PPT
            prs = Presentation()
            
            with pdfplumber.open(pdf_path) as pdf:
                for page_num, page in enumerate(pdf.pages, 1):
                    # Add slide
                    slide_layout = prs.slide_layouts[5]  # Blank layout
                    slide = prs.slides.add_slide(slide_layout)
                    
                    # Add title
                    title = slide.shapes.title
                    if title:
                        title.text = f"Page {page_num}"
                    
                    # Add text content
                    text = page.extract_text()
                    if text:
                        textbox = slide.shapes.add_textbox(
                            left=Inches(1), top=Inches(1.5),
                            width=Inches(8), height=Inches(5)
                        )
                        text_frame = textbox.text_frame
                        text_frame.text = text[:500]  # Limit text length
            
            prs.save(ppt_path)
            logger.info(f"PDF to PPT conversion complete: {ppt_path}")
            return True
            
        except Exception as e:
            logger.error(f"PDF to PPT conversion failed: {str(e)}")
            return False


class OfficeToPDF:
    """Office to PDF conversion utility class"""
    
    @staticmethod
    def word_to_pdf(word_path: str, pdf_path: str) -> bool:
        """
        Convert Word to PDF (via print method)
        
        Args:
            word_path: Path to Word file
            pdf_path: Path to output PDF file
            
        Returns:
            bool: Whether conversion was successful
        """
        try:
            logger.info(f"Starting Word to PDF conversion: {word_path}")
            
            # Read Word document
            doc = Document(word_path)
            
            # Create PDF writer
            pdf_writer = PyPDF2.PdfWriter()
            
            # Since PyPDF2 doesn't support direct text writing, create a simple PDF
            # In practice, consider using libraries like reportlab for more complex PDFs
            from reportlab.pdfgen import canvas
            from reportlab.lib.pagesizes import letter
            from reportlab.pdfbase import pdfmetrics
            from reportlab.pdfbase.ttfonts import TTFont
            
            # Create temporary PDF
            temp_pdf = "temp_word_output.pdf"
            c = canvas.Canvas(temp_pdf, pagesize=letter)
            
            y_position = 750  # Starting Y position
            line_height = 15  # Line height
            
            # Add document content
            for paragraph in doc.paragraphs:
                if paragraph.text:
                    # Handle line breaks
                    lines = paragraph.text.split('\n')
                    for line in lines:
                        if line.strip():
                            c.drawString(50, y_position, line[:100])  # Limit line length
                            y_position -= line_height
                            
                            # If page is full, create new page
                            if y_position < 50:
                                c.showPage()
                                y_position = 750
            
            c.save()
            
            # Read temporary PDF and add to final PDF
            with open(temp_pdf, 'rb') as f:
                pdf = PyPDF2.PdfReader(f)
                for page in pdf.pages:
                    pdf_writer.add_page(page)
            
            # Save final PDF
            with open(pdf_path, 'wb') as f:
                pdf_writer.write(f)
            
            # Delete temporary file
            os.remove(temp_pdf)
            
            logger.info(f"Word to PDF conversion complete: {pdf_path}")
            return True
            
        except Exception as e:
            logger.error(f"Word to PDF conversion failed: {str(e)}")
            return False
    
    @staticmethod
    def excel_to_pdf(excel_path: str, pdf_path: str) -> bool:
        """
        Convert Excel to PDF
        
        Args:
            excel_path: Path to Excel file
            pdf_path: Path to output PDF file
            
        Returns:
            bool: Whether conversion was successful
        """
        try:
            logger.info(f"Starting Excel to PDF conversion: {excel_path}")
            
            # Read Excel file
            wb = load_workbook(excel_path)
            
            # Create PDF using reportlab
            from reportlab.pdfgen import canvas
            from reportlab.lib.pagesizes import landscape, letter
            
            c = canvas.Canvas(pdf_path, pagesize=landscape(letter))
            
            y_position = 550
            line_height = 20
            
            # Iterate through each worksheet
            for sheet_name in wb.sheetnames:
                ws = wb[sheet_name]
                
                # Add worksheet title
                c.setFont("Helvetica-Bold", 14)
                c.drawString(50, y_position, f"Worksheet: {sheet_name}")
                y_position -= line_height + 10
                
                # Set table font
                c.setFont("Helvetica", 10)
                
                # Get data range
                data = []
                for row in ws.iter_rows(values_only=True):
                    data.append([str(cell) if cell is not None else "" for cell in row])
                
                # Draw table
                if data:
                    col_width = 80
                    row_height = 15
                    
                    for row_idx, row in enumerate(data):
                        for col_idx, cell in enumerate(row[:8]):  # Limit columns
                            x = 50 + col_idx * col_width
                            y = y_position - row_idx * row_height
                            
                            # Draw cell border
                            c.rect(x, y - row_height, col_width, row_height)
                            
                            # Write cell content
                            c.drawString(x + 5, y - row_height + 5, cell[:15])  # Limit text length
                        
                        # If page is full, create new page
                        if y_position - (row_idx + 1) * row_height < 50:
                            c.showPage()
                            y_position = 750
                            c.setFont("Helvetica", 10)
                
                y_position -= len(data) * row_height + 30
                
                # If new page is needed
                if y_position < 100:
                    c.showPage()
                    y_position = 750
            
            c.save()
            
            logger.info(f"Excel to PDF conversion complete: {pdf_path}")
            return True
            
        except Exception as e:
            logger.error(f"Excel to PDF conversion failed: {str(e)}")
            return False
    
    @staticmethod
    def ppt_to_pdf(ppt_path: str, pdf_path: str) -> bool:
        """
        Convert PPT to PDF
        
        Args:
            ppt_path: Path to PPT file
            pdf_path: Path to output PDF file
            
        Returns:
            bool: Whether conversion was successful
        """
        try:
            logger.info(f"Starting PPT to PDF conversion: {ppt_path}")
            
            # Read PPT file
            prs = Presentation(ppt_path)
            
            # Create PDF using reportlab
            from reportlab.pdfgen import canvas
            from reportlab.lib.pagesizes import landscape, letter
            
            c = canvas.Canvas(pdf_path, pagesize=landscape(letter))
            
            for slide_num, slide in enumerate(prs.slides, 1):
                # Add slide title
                c.setFont("Helvetica-Bold", 16)
                c.drawString(50, 550, f"Slide {slide_num}")
                
                # Add slide content
                c.setFont("Helvetica", 12)
                y_position = 500
                
                # Extract text from slide
                for shape in slide.shapes:
                    if hasattr(shape, "text") and shape.text:
                        text_lines = shape.text.split('\n')
                        for line in text_lines:
                            if line.strip():
                                c.drawString(70, y_position, line[:100])
                                y_position -= 20
                
                # Add new page (except for last page)
                if slide_num < len(prs.slides):
                    c.showPage()
            
            c.save()
            
            logger.info(f"PPT to PDF conversion complete: {pdf_path}")
            return True
            
        except Exception as e:
            logger.error(f"PPT to PDF conversion failed: {str(e)}")
            return False


class FileConverter:
    """Main file converter class"""
    
    def __init__(self):
        self.pdf_to_office = PDFToOffice()
        self.office_to_pdf = OfficeToPDF()
    
    def convert(self, input_path: str, output_path: str, conversion_type: str) -> bool:
        """
        Perform file conversion
        
        Args:
            input_path: Path to input file
            output_path: Path to output file
            conversion_type: Conversion type, supports:
                'pdf2word', 'pdf2excel', 'pdf2ppt',
                'word2pdf', 'excel2pdf', 'ppt2pdf'
        
        Returns:
            bool: Whether conversion was successful
        """
        # Check if input file exists
        if not os.path.exists(input_path):
            logger.error(f"Input file does not exist: {input_path}")
            return False
        
        # Create output directory
        output_dir = os.path.dirname(output_path)
        if output_dir and not os.path.exists(output_dir):
            os.makedirs(output_dir)
        
        # Execute conversion based on type
        converters = {
            'pdf2word': self.pdf_to_office.pdf_to_word,
            'pdf2excel': self.pdf_to_office.pdf_to_excel,
            'pdf2ppt': self.pdf_to_office.pdf_to_ppt,
            'word2pdf': self.office_to_pdf.word_to_pdf,
            'excel2pdf': self.office_to_pdf.excel_to_pdf,
            'ppt2pdf': self.office_to_pdf.ppt_to_pdf
        }
        
        if conversion_type not in converters:
            logger.error(f"Unsupported conversion type: {conversion_type}")
            return False
        
        return converters[conversion_type](input_path, output_path)


def main():
    """Main function"""
    converter = FileConverter()
    
    # Example usage
    examples = [
        # PDF to Office
        ("example.pdf", "output.docx", "pdf2word"),
        ("example.pdf", "output.xlsx", "pdf2excel"),
        ("example.pdf", "output.pptx", "pdf2ppt"),
        
        # Office to PDF
        ("example.docx", "output.pdf", "word2pdf"),
        ("example.xlsx", "output.pdf", "excel2pdf"),
        ("example.pptx", "output.pdf", "ppt2pdf"),
    ]
    
    # Print usage instructions
    print("=" * 60)
    print("PDF/Office Conversion Tool")
    print("=" * 60)
    print("\nSupported conversion types:")
    print("  1. PDF → Word   (pdf2word)")
    print("  2. PDF → Excel  (pdf2excel)")
    print("  3. PDF → PPT    (pdf2ppt)")
    print("  4. Word → PDF   (word2pdf)")
    print("  5. Excel → PDF  (excel2pdf)")
    print("  6. PPT → PDF    (ppt2pdf)")
    print("\nUsage examples:")
    print("  converter.convert('input.pdf', 'output.docx', 'pdf2word')")
    print("  converter.convert('input.docx', 'output.pdf', 'word2pdf')")
    print("=" * 60)
    
    # Prompt user for input
    input_file = input("\nEnter input file path: ").strip()
    output_file = input("Enter output file path: ").strip()
    print("Select conversion type:")
    print("1. PDF to Word")
    print("2. PDF to Excel")
    print("3. PDF to PPT")
    print("4. Word to PDF")
    print("5. Excel to PDF")
    print("6. PPT to PDF")
    
    choice = input("Enter number (1-6): ").strip()
    
    type_map = {
        '1': 'pdf2word',
        '2': 'pdf2excel',
        '3': 'pdf2ppt',
        '4': 'word2pdf',
        '5': 'excel2pdf',
        '6': 'ppt2pdf'
    }
    
    if choice in type_map:
        success = converter.convert(input_file, output_file, type_map[choice])
        if success:
            print(f"\n✅ Conversion successful! Output file: {output_file}")
        else:
            print(f"\n❌ Conversion failed, please check the logs.")
    else:
        print("Invalid choice!")


if __name__ == "__main__":
    main()

3. Enhanced Converter (Using More Libraries)

If you need higher quality conversion, install these enhanced libraries:

# Better PDF processing
pip install pdf2docx==0.5.6  # PDF to Word
pip install camelot-py==0.11.0  # PDF table extraction
pip install tabula-py==2.8.0  # PDF table extraction

# Better Office to PDF
pip install comtypes==1.1.14  # Windows Office COM component usage
pip install win32com  # Windows automation

Enhanced code example:

"""
Enhanced Converter - Using More Specialized Libraries
"""

import os
import sys
from pathlib import Path

# Enhanced PDF to Word
try:
    from pdf2docx import Converter
except ImportError:
    print("Please install pdf2docx: pip install pdf2docx")

# Enhanced PDF table extraction
try:
    import camelot
except ImportError:
    print("Please install camelot-py: pip install camelot-py")

# Windows Office COM component usage
if sys.platform == 'win32':
    try:
        import win32com.client
    except ImportError:
        print("Please install pywin32: pip install pywin32")


class EnhancedConverter:
    """Enhanced converter class"""
    
    @staticmethod
    def pdf_to_word_enhanced(pdf_path: str, word_path: str) -> bool:
        """
        High-quality PDF to Word conversion using pdf2docx
        """
        try:
            cv = Converter(pdf_path)
            cv.convert(word_path, start=0, end=None)
            cv.close()
            return True
        except Exception as e:
            print(f"Conversion failed: {e}")
            return False
    
    @staticmethod
    def word_to_pdf_enhanced(word_path: str, pdf_path: str) -> bool:
        """
        High-quality conversion using Word COM component on Windows
        """
        if sys.platform != 'win32':
            print("This feature is only supported on Windows systems")
            return False
        
        try:
            word = win32com.client.Dispatch("Word.Application")
            word.Visible = False
            
            doc = word.Documents.Open(os.path.abspath(word_path))
            doc.SaveAs(os.path.abspath(pdf_path), FileFormat=17)  # 17 = PDF format
            doc.Close()
            
            word.Quit()
            return True
        except Exception as e:
            print(f"Conversion failed: {e}")
            return False


# Usage example
if __name__ == "__main__":
    converter = EnhancedConverter()
    
    # PDF to Word
    converter.pdf_to_word_enhanced("input.pdf", "output.docx")
    
    # Word to PDF (Windows)
    converter.word_to_pdf_enhanced("input.docx", "output.pdf")

4. Batch Conversion Tool

"""
Batch File Conversion Tool
"""

import os
import glob
from pathlib import Path
from concurrent.futures import ThreadPoolExecutor, as_completed


class BatchConverter:
    """Batch converter class"""
    
    def __init__(self, converter):
        self.converter = converter
    
    def batch_convert(self, input_dir: str, output_dir: str, 
                     input_ext: str, output_ext: str, conversion_type: str):
        """
        Batch convert all files in a folder
        
        Args:
            input_dir: Input folder
            output_dir: Output folder
            input_ext: Input file extension (e.g., '.pdf')
            output_ext: Output file extension (e.g., '.docx')
            conversion_type: Conversion type
        """
        # Ensure output directory exists
        os.makedirs(output_dir, exist_ok=True)
        
        # Get all input files
        input_files = glob.glob(os.path.join(input_dir, f"*{input_ext}"))
        
        if not input_files:
            print(f"No {input_ext} files found in {input_dir}")
            return
        
        print(f"Found {len(input_files)} files, starting conversion...")
        
        # Use thread pool for parallel conversion
        with ThreadPoolExecutor(max_workers=4) as executor:
            futures = []
            
            for input_file in input_files:
                # Generate output filename
                base_name = Path(input_file).stem
                output_file = os.path.join(output_dir, f"{base_name}{output_ext}")
                
                # Submit conversion task
                future = executor.submit(
                    self.converter.convert,
                    input_file,
                    output_file,
                    conversion_type
                )
                futures.append((future, input_file, output_file))
            
            # Wait for all tasks to complete
            for future, input_file, output_file in futures:
                try:
                    success = future.result()
                    status = "✓" if success else "✗"
                    print(f"[{status}] {Path(input_file).name} -> {Path(output_file).name}")
                except Exception as e:
                    print(f"[✗] {Path(input_file).name} conversion failed: {e}")


# Usage example
if __name__ == "__main__":
    from main import FileConverter
    
    converter = FileConverter()
    batch = BatchConverter(converter)
    
    # Batch convert PDF to Word
    batch.batch_convert(
        input_dir="./pdf_files",
        output_dir="./word_files",
        input_ext=".pdf",
        output_ext=".docx",
        conversion_type="pdf2word"
    )
    
    # Batch convert Word to PDF
    batch.batch_convert(
        input_dir="./word_files",
        output_dir="./pdf_output",
        input_ext=".docx",
        output_ext=".pdf",
        conversion_type="word2pdf"
    )

5. Usage Instructions

Install Dependencies:

pip install PyPDF2 pdf2image pdfplumber python-docx openpyxl python-pptx pillow

Basic Usage:

from converter import FileConverter

converter = FileConverter()

# PDF to Word
converter.convert("input.pdf", "output.docx", "pdf2word")

# Word to PDF
converter.convert("input.docx", "output.pdf", "word2pdf")

Important Notes:
- These libraries are all free and open-source
- Conversion quality may not match commercial software
- For complex document formats, consider using the enhanced version or commercial solutions
- When processing Chinese text, you may need to install Chinese fonts

A Certain Posture

Wed, 11 Feb 2026 15:20:00 GMT

::music{songurl="https://music.aifsx.cn/rest/stream?u=lpr98k&t=66ca547704c00967dd99b14e9955da56&s=1f1729&f=json&v=1.8.0&c=NavidromeUI&id=1BuW6yjXFHlyWwJ1Y2kRMp&_=1763739892060" coverurl="https://p1.music.126.net/pwcUlwh9MFZ_V3hGBOPaCQ==/109951169213425474.jpg?param=130y130" title="三十岁的女人" artist="赵雷"}

I gradually realized,
some people like to speak in a carefree tone.

That kind of carefree tone isn’t quiet,
but carries a bit of sharpness,
and a bit of deliberate noise.

In public settings,
they will call out a few familiar people.
Their tone sounds casual,
as if joking,
yet also as if naming someone.

The onlookers laugh,
the atmosphere gets lifted,
and they stand in the middle,
appearing to have weight.

At first, I thought
it was straightforwardness.
It was honesty.
It was a kind of courage that didn’t care about relationships.

Later, I slowly realized
it was more like a posture.

Because people who are truly steady
don’t really need to prove themselves in front of a crowd.
They are not eager to draw a blade,
nor eager to declare a stance.
They know when to speak,
and when to stop.

And those frequent “carefree” moments
almost always happen around safe targets —
familiar people,
people who won’t truly fall out with them,
people who won’t openly push back.

That makes everything subtle.

It is no longer communication,
but more like a low-cost test of power.
Under everyone’s gaze,
they step lightly on someone,
to see whether anyone will push back.

If no one does,
that silence gets misread as acceptance.
And acceptance gets misread as authority.

So sharpness begins to turn into a performance.
“I dare to speak the truth.”
“I’m not afraid of offending people.”
These lines get used repeatedly,
like a shell
wrapping around some form of unease.

I don’t deny
that some things do need to be said directly.
Some relationships can indeed withstand friction.

But when “calling people out in public”
becomes a way to build one’s presence,
it stops being honesty
and becomes a persona.

I started learning to distinguish between two things:
weight, and noise.

Some people are loud,
but land lightly.

Some people barely speak,
yet make others instinctively adjust their boundaries.

True authority
rarely needs an audience.
It exists in consistent behavior,
in private respect,
in those moments that don’t need to be displayed.

Later, I was also teased,
lightly singled out.

I didn’t push back on the spot.
Nor did I play along.

I just stood there quietly,
and suddenly realized something:

Some people need the presence of others
to raise their own position.

And some people
only need to stand.

When the Frequencies Start to Drift Apart

Wed, 11 Feb 2026 14:38:00 GMT

::music{songurl="https://music.aifsx.cn/rest/stream?u=lpr98k&t=90a0446fd80d7687a6c1abaf3bafa879&s=0e7484&f=json&v=1.8.0&c=NavidromeUI&id=1hswnmQUqCr7xsaVXULz3J&=1770821638287" coverurl="https://music.aifsx.cn/rest/getCoverArt?u=lpr98k&t=90a0446fd80d7687a6c1abaf3bafa879&s=0e7484&f=json&v=1.8.0&c=NavidromeUI&id=mf-1hswnmQUqCr7xsaVXULz3J&=2025-07-08T15%3A57%3A51Z&size=300" title="Hello" artist="Adele"}

Lately I’ve been noticing something more and more clearly:

I’m no longer on the same channel as some of the friends around me.

They still talk about what to eat, where to go, which game to play, and which woman.
None of these topics are unfamiliar. I used to join in naturally.
But at some point, without realizing it, I started becoming quiet in those conversations.

It’s not that I don’t understand.
I just can’t get interested anymore.

What fills my mind now is more like:

Is there a better way to write this code
Can this site structure be cleaner
Can the server setup be optimized
Can I implement this feature myself

Sometimes they’re chatting loudly and laughing, while I’m thinking about a bug.
Or a project that isn’t finished yet.

I’m physically there,
but my attention isn’t.

It’s Not That They Changed

I Just Started Moving in Another Direction

At first, this shift felt a little strange.

I wondered if I was becoming less sociable.
If I was starting to look down on those conversations.

But slowly I realized:
it’s not about who’s better than whom.

We’re just heading in different directions.

Their rhythm leans toward instant enjoyment:

After work → relax → entertainment → chatting
Be happy today, that’s enough

And I’ve grown used to another rhythm:

After work → work on projects → write something → refine structure
Slower, but something remains

I didn’t intentionally try to become “hard-working.”
I just became increasingly addicted to making things.

When I write code, time becomes quiet.
When a site finally runs, there’s a sense of solidity.
Even fixing a small issue satisfies me more than a lot of small talk.

It’s subtle,
but once you get used to it,
it’s hard to return to how things were before.

Conversations Start to Feel Like Courtesy

Now when I’m with some friends, I still talk.

I laugh when it’s appropriate.
I respond when spoken to.

But I know many topics no longer truly pull me in.

Sometimes they ask what I’ve been up to.
I say I’ve been coding, building sites.
They nod,
and the conversation quickly returns to games or something else.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

It’s just becoming clearer to me:

the overlap between us is shrinking.

We used to talk all night.
Now ten minutes is enough.

It’s not that the relationship got worse.
Our frequencies just started to drift apart.

I’ve Started Enjoying a Quieter Kind of Focus

I’m finding myself enjoying more and more the process of:

working on things alone
solving problems alone
building something by myself

It isn’t lively.
Sometimes it’s even a little lonely.
But it feels real.

When a site goes live,
when a function finally works,
when a piece of code becomes clean and clear,

the satisfaction is quiet,
but steady.

It doesn’t hit as fast as the joy of a gathering,
but it lasts longer.

I’m Not Planning to Leave Anyone Behind

I’m not trying to distance myself from anyone.

Those friends are still friends.
The way we interact just shifts gradually.

I don’t force myself to engage deeply in every topic anymore.
And I don’t expect them to fully understand what I’m doing.

If we can talk, we talk.
If we can’t, that’s okay too.

Life naturally has different phases.
Some people are meant to share the noise with you.
Some are meant to share growth.

And right now,
I might be in a phase that needs more focus.

Maybe This Is Just Another Shape of Growth

I don’t think I’ve become better.
I’ve just become clearer about:

what excites me
what quiets me
what’s worth long-term effort

As I put more time into code, websites, and projects,
some relationships naturally fade a little.

Not out of intention,
but because attention has shifted.

Maybe after some time
I’ll meet more people who are also building things.
Maybe not.

But at least for now,
I know the direction I’m heading.

Frequencies drifting apart doesn’t mean anyone has left anyone.
It just means:

we’re each walking
on tracks that suit us better.

And I’m slowly getting used to
this quieter road.

They look very happy

Fri, 06 Feb 2026 06:59:00 GMT

You always come across some drunk people on the side of the road at night, holding each other up and laughing loudly, optimistic as if they could never be knocked down. I wonder, among these staggering souls, which ones are truly happy.

Walking along the roadside at night, you always encounter some intoxicated people.
Their steps are unsteady, yet they support each other, as if forming a temporary alliance; their voices are loud, they laugh without restraint, and the topics they discuss burst intermittently in the air. That laughter is too full, so full that it creates an illusion—as if the world has never left any scars on them.

They appear optimistic to the point of stubbornness, as if no matter how life pushes and shoves, it can only make them stagger, never truly fall.

Yet I can’t help but wonder, among these unsteady souls, how many are genuinely happy.

Alcohol makes people feel lighter.
It’s not that the problems become lighter, but that the feelings become lighter. Reality still exists, but it’s temporarily placed somewhere out of reach. So people can laugh carefreely, let loose without worry, and willingly hand over their dignity and self-control to the night. In that moment, they aren’t winning against life; they’re just temporarily not confronting it.

Some are truly happy. Friends are by their side, the night breeze is just right, the city lights are gentle, and tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet. Happiness is complete in this moment, needing no explanation, no continuation.

Some, however, are not happy—they simply don’t want to be sober.
Being sober means calculating, means comparing, means returning to the person they are during the day—the one who needs to take responsibility, be evaluated, and constantly prove they’re still “doing okay.” Alcohol presses the pause button for them, rendering all judgment ineffective, making failures, disappointments, and regrets temporarily weightless.

And then there are those who laugh the hardest.
Their laughter is like a declaration—I’m fine, I’m good, I can keep going. The louder they are, the more it seems like they’re trying to convince themselves. Because once they fall silent, something will catch up, standing right behind them.

So I prefer to believe that it’s not just their bodies that are unsteady.
It’s that life, at some moment, doesn’t want to stand upright.
It’s souls briefly leaning against each other, borrowing a bit of strength, a bit of liveliness, pretending they’re not alone.

Alcohol brings everyone to the same level, making them all seem alike. But once daylight comes, the weight each must bear is still different. Some will keep walking, some will stay where they are, and some won’t even want to look back at who they were the night before.

True happiness is actually quiet.
It doesn’t need loud laughter to maintain its presence, nor does it rush to prove itself to passersby.
And that kind of repeatedly amplified happiness is often just to offset something.

Under the streetlights, the figures gradually disperse, and the laughter fades around the corner.
The night returns to its original order.
Only those who have walked past know whether that night, they were truly happy, or just temporarily not in pain.

jin

Fri, 06 Feb 2026 02:26:00 GMT

Lijuan...

You know, what if you had met me first? What kind of story would that have been?

A person sometimes
easily drifts back to old things.

In sixth grade, you won third place in the province for calligraphy.
In middle school, your English dictation and speech scores were exceptionally high.
For the college entrance exam, you got into your dream university with outstanding marks.
Right after finishing your postgraduate studies,
you got married.

What I admire most about you is
your utter devotion to him,
your silent, unwavering loyalty.

I truly thought you would be happy,
married to someone you'd known since childhood.

I truly thought with your education,
you'd surely find a stable, good job.

So how… how did it end like this?

Because you didn't end up with a good husband.
If you had been with me back then,
how could this tragedy have happened?

But then again,
if you really had been with me,
if you hadn't reconciled with him,

I probably wouldn't cherish that version of you so much now.

Why?

Because I, too, admire people who are wholeheartedly devoted, who think only of the other,
but preferably if that devotion is directed at me!

If Lijuan could know,

If she could hear these words of mine, tangled with admiration, regret, and self-analysis, perhaps she would stay silent, then offer me a complex, understanding smile.

She might say, "You see, what you miss and admire is the me who persisted in being 'loyal' within my fate. But the real me and my choices were probably more complicated than you imagined. My tragedy wasn't entirely about 'not choosing the right person.' It could have stemmed from the times, my own nature, chance, and even attachments I myself might not have fully understood. And your longing for 'pure loyalty' alongside your doubt about it—that's the eternal struggle within each of us, between love and possession. Thank you for remembering the good in me, and thank you for this brutally honest reflection—it makes us both seem real, not perfect."

Perhaps the deepest sorrow of this story is that there are no 'what ifs.'

All hypotheticals, whether of salvation or ruin, are merely conversations conducted by the living on this side of time with the departed on the other—conversations that can never truly arrive. And in this dialogue, what I ultimately confront is the faint echo deep within my own heart, concerning love, possession, morality, and desire.

This echo is so heavy because it is about the fall of one specific life, and also about the unsolvable riddle of 'what if' that resides in every person's heart.

Ordinary Life and Breathing Space

Mon, 02 Feb 2026 18:45:00 GMT

Many people, besides working,
spend their evenings playing games or having a drink,
and chat briefly with friends on WeChat
about unimportant things.

They don’t really have any grand expectations.

It’s not that they “have no ambitions,”
they’ve just converted their ambitions into
the small slice of happiness they can bear.

During the day, they’re dulled by time, performance metrics, moods, and rules,
and at night, they just want to
give themselves back for a little while—

Even if it’s just
winning a game,
having an inexpensive drink,
zoning out on the sofa,
or casually replying with
“haha,” “yeah,” “maybe another time.”

And many moms,
their workday doesn’t really end.

At home, they still handle household chores,
doing laundry, cooking, tidying up,
putting the day back in order.

They switch between different roles—
a pillar for their children,
a supportive partner,
“the responsible one” in their parents’ eyes,
an employee who has to control emotions at work,
occasionally pretending everything is fine in front of friends.

They shuttle between school drop-offs and pick-ups,
homework, parent groups, and daily chores,
navigate compromises, patience, and communication in their marriage,
and constantly adjust their measures between friends’ messages and leaders’ demands.

Sometimes they exchange a few words with friends on WeChat,
not deep,
not solving anything,
just to confirm
someone still remembers you exist.

Few people ask if they are tired,
because all these roles are bundled together,
assumed to be
“things you should naturally be able to do”.

Their breathing space is even more fragmented—
after the kids fall asleep,
leaning on the bed scrolling WeChat or Douyin for a few minutes,
the screen isn’t bright,
yet it’s enough to
let the world be quiet for a moment.

They don’t expect these things to change their fate,
they just hope they
won’t drain them any further.

Many people ridicule this kind of life as “boring” or “lowly,”
but the truly frightening thing has never been ordinariness,
it’s—
having even this cheap breathing space taken away,
and still being required to smile while understanding the world.

Most people don’t ask for much:
not grand narratives,
not distant ideals,
just that at the end of the day,
they can quietly tell themselves:

and still be able to say:

Today,
I survived too.

Disdain for Stupidity

Mon, 02 Feb 2026 07:50:00 GMT

“Disdain for stupidity” is a sharp phrase.
I have no intention of defending it, nor of polishing it into something respectable.

But there is one thing I want to make clear—
what I disdain has never been “being slow”.

What I disdain is a state that refuses self-reflection:
cognition frozen in place, yet unaware of itself;
ability not yet reached, yet unwilling to learn;
limited understanding, yet expecting the world to make way for it.

Stupidity itself is not frightening.
What is truly exhausting is having no awareness of one’s own limits, while remaining highly confident.

It is like a dinner gathering,
where someone who has barely ever cooked insists on critiquing every dish,
declares the chef incompetent when the taste does not suit them,
and never considers that their palate might be narrow.

They are often not malicious.
They simply tend to treat bias as conclusion,
emotion as evidence,
and limited experience as universal truth.

When reality deviates from their understanding,
they are more likely to feel hurt
than to feel curious.

So—
explanations sound like arguments,
patience is mistaken for concession,
logic appears cold,
and boundaries are read as distance.

I gradually realized
that what truly drains people is not disagreement itself,
but the repeatedly ineffective communication that follows it.

The feeling is familiar:
like at a dinner table
where you have already explained the ingredients, the heat, the method clearly enough,
yet the other person keeps asking the same questions,
only to prove that their initial dissatisfaction was justified.

It is also like an argument with a colleague.
The issue itself is not complicated—
plans, data, and consequences are all laid out plainly.
But the other person is not genuinely concerned with any of that.
They care about only one thing—
not appearing to be wrong.

So the discussion turns into circles,
facts are repeatedly pulled apart,
conclusions are constantly overturned,
and every response exists only to return to the starting point.

At that moment, it becomes clear
that you are not solving a problem,
but accompanying someone in defending their self-esteem.

The same questions keep reappearing,
the same answers are rejected again and again,
not because they are incomprehensible,
but because no one is willing to pay the cost of understanding.

They would rather have you chew everything up and place it in front of them,
preferably also completing the judgment on their behalf.

When understanding becomes an obligation,
communication turns into a burden,
and relationships quietly begin to deteriorate.

There is another, more concealed state—
not stupidity, but a fear of complexity.

The world is reduced to right and wrong, us and them, good and evil.
This feels safer, and requires less effort.

But complexity, ambiguity, and multiple perspectives
are precisely the normal condition of reality.

Those who reject complexity
are often not firm in their stance,
but rather lack the capacity to carry complexity.

They need a judgment that can immediately stand,
so that their unease can settle as quickly as possible.

The reason I keep my distance from all this
is not because I consider myself intelligent.

On the contrary—
it is precisely because I know I can fall into blind spots as well
that I am more willing to maintain learning, revision, and doubt.

I can accept ignorance,
but I struggle to accept the stubborn preservation of ignorance.

I respect differences,
but I am unwilling to continually yield to laziness, rigidity, and emotional loss of control.

So later, I learned to set certain boundaries:

Not treating explanation as an obligation
Not treating empathy as a transaction
Not repeatedly engaging in conversations without growth
Not bearing the cost of others’ stagnation

Like leaving a dinner table where the food was never going to suit you,
I choose to excuse myself early.

This is not coldness,
but rather a careful regard for one’s energy.

Disdain for stupidity is not a sense of superiority.
It is closer to a mechanism of self-selection.

Not to stand higher than others,
but to avoid being dragged into the consumption of
low-quality thinking, inefficient communication, and low-density relationships.

The world is already noisy enough.
I simply choose
to reserve my limited time
for those who can truly engage in dialogue.

Gazing at the Moon

Tue, 27 Jan 2026 11:12:00 GMT

When I looked up at night, the moon was already hanging high.

Not the kind that had just risen, still tinged with an orange edge, but one that had settled, its light calm, its outline sharp, like an object polished by time. It was in no hurry to illuminate anything; it simply existed.

I stood there, watching it for a while.

People rarely truly "look" at the moon. More often, they just know it's there. Like so many things—hometowns, old friends, people long out of touch—they occupy a place in memory but are seldom gazed upon with true attention.

The act of gazing at the moon itself carries a hint of hesitation.

You don't know what to project onto it, yet vaguely feel it should bear something.

As a child reading "I lift my head to gaze at the bright moon," I always thought it was a romantic posture. Only after growing up did I realize that those who truly stop to gaze at the moon are often not doing so out of happiness. More often, it's after everything is done, words have been spoken, the world has temporarily quieted down, and only you are left, still searching for a suitable place to be.

The moon answers no questions.

It simply sheds its light evenly, impartially.

It suddenly struck me that gazing at the moon is not about seeking resonance, but about confirming distance.

Confirming the impassable space between it and me;

And confirming the same between me and certain pasts.

Those relationships that have ended, paths not taken, thoughts set aside—they haven't vanished; they've merely been placed in a position of "no longer approaching." Like the moon, visible, yet unreachable.

This clarity, instead, brings peace.

Moonlight falls upon the ground—not sharp, nor gentle. It merely brings contours into view—the shadows of trees, eaves, and people all become sharply defined. You can finally see clearly what is reality and what is merely imagination.

I stood a while longer, took no photos, left no record of any kind.

Just watching.

Some moments simply do not need to be preserved.

Their purpose for existing is merely to let you, in that instant, confirm that you are still within the world.

The moon still hung there.

I turned and left; it would not change its position because of that.

But I knew I had gazed upon it.

Fleeting Glimpses

Sun, 25 Jan 2026 15:55:47 GMT

Yesterday, I was suddenly added to a chat group. Without any warning, or any omen. My phone vibrated once on the desk, and as the screen lit up, the steady light in the room was briefly interrupted—as if someone had casually slotted me into a space that was already in motion.

When I first joined the group, I did chat a little. A simple greeting, adding a couple of lines following the ongoing topic—enough to not be silent, but not too conspicuous either. The white light from the phone screen cast a glow on my face, appearing neither harsh in the bright afternoon environment, merely adding a layer of coolness. It was a very instinctive reaction—since I'd been added, I should at least make myself "appear present."

Outside the window was an ordinary afternoon scene. Light slanted in from the window, bright but not intense, and occasionally, people passed by in the distance. Messages in the group came quickly, topics pushing forward one after another. Much of what was said didn't seem to be in reply to anyone; it was more like each person was putting out what they wanted to say. As I read, I tried to discern: Some might just be speaking out of habit, some were killing time, and others perhaps just needed a place to finish their thoughts, not really caring if there was a response.

There was one exchange in the middle that made me pause and look a bit longer. Someone in the group said "cpdd" (probably meaning looking for a couple), their tone very casual. Another person jokingly recommended someone to them, which started off like banter, but then the other person's mood suddenly shifted, saying that person was "sick." Several lines popped up in succession, the tone turning sharp. The brightness of the screen didn't change, but the air in the room seemed to tighten silently. It was just a few sentences back and forth, yet it completed a shift from relaxed to confrontational. Interesting.

I tried to keep up with the pace, but gradually realized this kind of conversation didn't really need many participants. The people who actually talked frequently in the group were just a handful. The phone grew slightly warm in my hand, messages continuing to scroll upward. It was more like a flowing river—who stood on the bank, who stepped into the water, it ultimately didn't matter much.

As the chat went on, I spoke less and less. Not disappearing on purpose, nor suddenly losing interest, just gradually realizing that many topics would naturally continue even if I didn't chime in. Outside the window, vehicles passed by occasionally, light and shadow briefly flickering on the wall before settling back. My presence or absence didn't really affect the flow of the conversation.

So after that, I mostly just watched. Opening it occasionally, scanning a few lines, my fingertips lingering on the screen for a few seconds before letting go. Watching them each talk about their own things, as if moving forward together in the same space, yet never truly intersecting. Soon it was already night. The group was still lively, while in my room settled the quiet of the evening, broken only by the occasional light from my phone, brightening then dimming again.

I suppose I've always been this kind of person— Chatting a bit when first joining a group, then, once confirming my constant voice isn't needed here, naturally quieting down. Not out of indifference, nor aloofness. It's just that, more than participating, I'm more accustomed to standing to the side, in the flickering light of the screen, observing how people create their own separate liveliness.

Random Video API

Thu, 22 Jan 2026 08:05:00 GMT

Preview:

How to Use

Method 1: Create a Standalone Page

Suitable for: Creating a dedicated video playback page.

Steps:

Create a new HTML page.
Copy the following complete code into the page.
Configure parameters (see instructions below).




    
    
    
    Video Player

Method 2: Embed into an Existing Page

Suitable for: Embedding the video player into an existing page.

Steps:

Copy the following code into the HTML container of your page.
Configure parameters (see instructions below).

Parameter Configuration Instructions

API Key (apiKey)

Format Requirements: 8-12 characters, containing only letters (a-z) and numbers (0-9).
How to Generate: Enter arbitrarily, e.g., myvideo123, randomkey456.
Note: If a key doesn't work, try changing to a different one.

Domain (domain)

Meaning: The website domain where this code is deployed.
Format:
- Primary domain: example.com
- Subdomain: www.example.com
- Do not include the protocol (http:// or https://).
Examples:
- If the code is deployed at https://example.com, fill in example.com.
- If deployed at https://www.example.com, fill in www.example.com.

Important Reminders

Domain Must Be Accurate: The API validates based on the domain. An incorrect domain will not work.
Maintain Consistency: All pages under the same domain should use the same domain configuration.
Testing Recommendation: Test the functionality after deployment. If there are issues, check the domain configuration.

Cognitive Mismatch Slowly Wears a Person Down

Sat, 17 Jan 2026 19:20:00 GMT

Marriage holds certain kinds of pain that do not come from poverty, betrayal, or conflict.

I have seen a marriage in which the husband was many years older than his wife. Age itself was not the issue; the real problem was that their levels of understanding were never aligned. What this gap brought was not simple quarrels, but a far more subtle and long-lasting erosion — a marriage marked by cognitive mismatch.

The first thing to collapse is communication

When the cognitive levels of two people differ too much,
communication becomes extremely painful.

You talk about facts, logic, responsibilities, and long-term consequences,
but what the other person receives are attitudes, emotions, positions, and whether they feel judged.

You speak of “the matter itself,”
she hears “are you criticizing me?”

Whenever opinions differ,
it is interpreted as blame, criticism, or belittlement.

In such conversations,
reason cannot get through, while emotions are endlessly amplified.

Over time, you will realize:

Explaining is futile
Discussing is dangerous
Silence becomes self-protection

And the death of communication is often the first step toward the collapse of a marriage.

What truly exhausts you is the one-way flow of responsibility

The deeper pain is not quarrels,
but responsibility flowing long-term only on one side.

You can see the essence of problems,
know where the family should go,
and are willing to bear the pressure and take responsibility.

But the other party:

Cannot understand your thinking
Cannot share your burden
Even creates new chaos at critical moments

Thus, you are forced to remain in a state of:

Cannot collapse
Cannot lose control
Cannot show weakness
Must remain rational

You are not tired from giving, but from “giving without return.”

Over time, one inevitably experiences:

Anxiety
Insomnia
Emotional exhaustion
Mental wear

This is not weakness, but the inevitable result of prolonged depletion.

The most desperate thing is not being tired, but having no refuge for the soul

What truly crushes a person
is often not material pressure,
but the complete isolation of the inner world.

You have grievances, but no one understands.
You give, but no one sees.
You have emotions, but no one can carry them.

Financially, you carry the weight;
spiritually, you receive no nourishment.

You gradually realize:
this marriage is like an empty shell,
maintaining a structure without resonance.

And because of children, responsibilities, and reality,
you cannot easily leave.

Wanting to live poorly,
wanting to escape, but cannot.

One is trapped in such a marriage,
losing vitality little by little.

The ultimate outcome is often only two possibilities:

Becoming an irritable person
Or becoming a silent, mute shell of oneself

Cognitive mismatch itself is not the original sin; what is truly fatal is refusing to grow, refusing empathy, refusing self-reflection.
When one side only trusts their own feelings and views differing opinions as attacks, no matter how responsible or hardworking the other side is, they will eventually be depleted over time.

The pain of this marriage is not poverty, nor quarrels, but long-term mental exhaustion:
you give, take responsibility, and work hard, yet receive no understanding or feedback;
you feel grievance, anxiety, and fatigue, yet cannot find a harbor to rest.

The soul is lonely in such a relationship, slowly being hollowed out.

If you are also in such a relationship, at least admit one thing:
You are not whining without cause.

You are simply someone who has been consumed for too long.

Fragile High Self-Esteem Personality

Sat, 17 Jan 2026 15:04:00 GMT

I have seen many people with fragile high self-esteem.

They would rather lose than lower their head.
Fragile high self-esteem is not a flawed personality, but it can make intimate relationships very difficult and make the person themselves suffer more.

It's not that they don't care.
On the contrary, precisely because they care too much, they dare not lower their head.

At the moment a relationship is heading toward a break, they often appear unusually calm.
No explanations, no arguing, no clinging,
as if they quickly accept the outcome.

But that "letting go,"
is more like a rapid tightening of self-protection.

Lowering the head, in their experience,
is never just an apology.
It is a dangerous signal—
it means their self-worth begins to shake,
it means their dignity is handed to the other person,
it means that if they continue to expose themselves,
they might utterly fail.

So they choose to retreat.
Not because they won,
but because they cannot afford to lose again.

In Love

In love, people with fragile high self-esteem often give a lot.
Serious, invested, restrained yet sincere.

But once a conflict arises,
especially when being blamed or asked to "admit fault,"
their emotions quickly cool down.

They rarely argue.
More often it's silence, distance,
or even taking the initiative to end the relationship.

To outsiders, such a departure seems cold and decisive.
But only they know,
it's not that it doesn't hurt,
it's that it hurts too much to endure another self-denial.

It's not that they don't want to lower their head,
but they dare not confirm—
after lowering it,
will they still be able to stand?

At Work

At work, these people often appear reliable and strong-willed.
They can shoulder responsibilities and rarely show weakness,
even when at their limits, they prefer to handle things alone.

They can endure high intensity,
but they struggle with low dignity.

Once publicly criticized or questioned,
the inner impact
often outweighs the issue itself.

Not because they cannot handle the work,
but because, at that moment,
their self-worth is directly challenged.

So they either strive to prove themselves,
or quietly retreat.
Resign, change environments, cut connections.

On the surface it looks like a choice,
but in fact, it's still a form of defense.

Among Friends

In friendships,
people with fragile high self-esteem usually have a strong sense of boundaries.

They avoid bothering others,
and rarely expose their vulnerability.

When feeling belittled, ignored, or teased beyond limits,
they rarely confront on the spot,
and may not clarify things.

More often,
they just gradually stop approaching.

The relationship doesn't break abruptly,
it quietly cools down.

In their minds, it's not:
"Should I explain?"
but:
"No need to put myself in that position."

So, is this personality good?

Not "good," nor "bad."
It is a personality defense that was once very useful, but comes at a cost.

First, the conclusion—
Fragile high self-esteem is not a flawed personality,
but it can make intimate relationships very difficult,
and make the person themselves suffer more.

Why was it “good” once?

In certain growing environments,
this personality is actually very smart.

It keeps you from being easily trampled,
allows you to stand firm amid denial and belittlement,
teaches you to protect yourself with "dignity" and not be swallowed up.

In other words—
it's a system that helped you survive
in environments where resources were scarce and emotions unsafe.

From this perspective,
it deserves respect.

Where's the problem?

The problem is not high self-esteem,
but—
it is too fragile.

Thus, these costs arise:

Hard to show vulnerability in love
More likely to disconnect rather than repair in conflicts
Emotions get stuck in "win/lose" or "higher/lower" positions

More often than not:
Dignity is preserved, but the relationship is lost

And the most hidden point—
it makes you more accustomed to bearing alone,
but less skilled at repairing together.

From outsiders vs the person's inner feelings

Outsiders see:
You are rigid, cold, self-centered.

Inside, they feel:
I have no room left to retreat.

These two perspectives are often completely misaligned.

Finally

To put it more maturely—

Fragile high self-esteem,
is not suitable for loving others,
but it is very suitable for self-protection.

And the real issue in life is:
You cannot spend your whole life
just in self-protection mode.

True growth,
is not lowering your self-esteem,
but making it no longer fragile.

Featured Open Source Projects

Sat, 17 Jan 2026 10:00:47 GMT

01 OpenCode - Next-Generation AI Programming Assistant

Stars: 60k+
Project URL: https://github.com/anomalyco/opencode

Key Highlights

In-terminal GUI: Unlike traditional streaming conversations, provides an editor-like experience with independent buffers and window management
Dual-mode agents: Built-in development and planning modes covering scenarios from bug fixes to architectural analysis
Multi-model support: Compatible with Claude, Gemini, and local models; fully supports MCP protocol with strong extensibility
Seamless integration: Supports executing Shell commands, file searching, and built-in Vim mode for direct code editing

Installation Methods

# One-click installation
curl -fsSL https://opencode.ai/install | bash

# Homebrew installation
brew install anomalyco/tap/opencode

02 Ralph - Claude Code Automation Tool

Stars: ~1,000
Project URL: https://github.com/frankbria/ralph-claude-code

Core Functions

Intelligent loop mechanism: Enables unattended Claude Code operation, automatically handles long task interruptions
Exit detection: Intelligently determines task completion status, prevents infinite loops from consuming API resources
Lightweight design: Pure Shell script implementation, zero complex dependencies, ready to use
Cost control: Precisely controls AI working time, optimizes usage costs

Use Cases

Large-scale code refactoring
Automated test writing
Documentation generation tasks
Background AI tasks requiring extended runtime

03 Memos - Minimalist Privacy-First Notes

Stars: 52k+
Project URL: https://github.com/usememos/memos

Product Features

Privacy-first approach: Supports self-hosting, complete data autonomy with no third-party risks
Minimalist design: Microblog-style experience focusing on fragmented recording and idea capture
Markdown support: Full Markdown syntax support balancing aesthetics and functionality
Lightweight deployment: Docker one-click deployment with minimal resource consumption

Application Scenarios

Daily log recording
Technical inspiration notes
Task management
API integration with third-party workflows

04 Docker Android - Containerized Android Emulator

Stars: ~2,700
Project URL: https://github.com/HQarroum/docker-android

Technical Advantages

No GUI dependency: No need to install full Android Studio, reduces environment configuration complexity
Containerized isolation: Complete Android system packaged in Docker container, clean and independent environment
Web remote control: Provides web interface for remote operation, suitable for server environments
Quick startup: Single Docker command runs complete Android environment

Usage Scenarios

CI/CD automated testing
Server-side Android application execution
Parallel testing of multiple Android versions
Lightweight development environment setup

05 Chrome DevTools MCP Server

Stars: 20k+
Project URL: https://github.com/ChromeDevTools/chrome-devtools-mcp

Technical Innovation

AI-powered debugging: Exposes browser developer tool data to AI models via MCP protocol
Real-time data access: AI can read console, network requests, DOM structure, performance data, etc.
Proactive debugging: AI no longer guesses problems but performs precise analysis based on real data
JavaScript execution: Supports code execution verification for end-to-end problem diagnosis

Frontend Development Revolution

Intelligent performance analysis: Identifies loading bottlenecks
Automated error diagnosis: Detects and fixes frontend bugs
Smart code review: Analyzes code quality based on real runtime environment

06 Vibe Kanban - AI Agent Workflow Platform

Stars: 14.5k+
Project URL: https://github.com/BloopAI/vibe-kanban

Platform Characteristics

Visual orchestration: Kanban-style interface for managing multiple AI programming agents
Deep GitHub integration: Automatically tracks code changes and PR status
Parallel task processing: Supports multi-agent collaboration to improve development efficiency
Process visualization: AI workflow completely transparent, traceable and manageable

Workflow Management

Task card assignment: Manage AI agents like managing a team
Automatic status updates: Agents automatically provide task progress feedback
Code review integration: Centralized management of code output from multiple AIs
Architecture design support: Developers focus on high-level design while coding is handled by AI

07 OpenBB - Open Source Financial Analysis Platform

Stars: 40k+
Project URL: https://github.com/OpenBB-finance/OpenBB

Data Coverage

Full market data: Stocks, cryptocurrencies, forex, macroeconomic indicators
Professional analysis tools: Fundamental analysis, technical analysis, sentiment analysis
Multi-source aggregation: Integrates global free financial data sources
Open source transparency: First open source financial terminal with completely open models and algorithms

User Groups

Professional financial analysts
Quantitative trading developers
Data-driven investors
Financial academic researchers

08 UI-TARS Desktop - AI Smart Desktop Assistant

Stars: Rapidly growing
Project URL: https://github.com/bytedance/UI-TARS-desktop

Technical Breakthroughs

Multimodal GUI understanding: Based on visual language models, operates computers by viewing screens
Cross-application automation: Supports multiple application scenarios including browsers and office software
Natural language interaction: Text or voice command control, no need to learn complex scripts
Localized operation: On-device AI capabilities ensuring privacy and response speed

Application Scenarios

Office automation: Form filling, data processing
Cross-application workflows: Flight booking, information organization
GUI automation testing: UI interaction verification
Personal efficiency assistant: Automating daily computer operations

Summary

These 8 projects represent several major trends in the 2024 open source community:

Maturation of AI programming assistants: From simple conversations to complete workflow support
Enhanced privacy and security awareness: Self-hosting and local solutions gaining popularity
AI integration with traditional tools: Professional scenarios like browser debugging and financial analysis becoming AI-powered
Deepening workflow automation: From single tasks to multi-agent collaboration and orchestration
Rise of on-device AI applications: Desktop-level AI assistants achieving commercial viability

Each project provides innovative solutions for specific pain points, worthy of in-depth exploration by developers and technology enthusiasts.

My Hometown Is No Longer My Hometown

Fri, 16 Jan 2026 03:22:00 GMT

::music{songurl="https://icloud.aifsx.cn/f/2XsY/%E8%A5%BF%E6%A5%BC%E5%84%BF%E5%A5%B3.MP3" coverurl="https://p1.music.126.net/HLTiQ5HGV_r9bngo8S8ubg==/109951168827418013.jpg?param=34y34" title="西楼儿女" artist=""}

My hometown is no longer my hometown

This is neither a complaint nor a pose.
It feels more like a confirmation—at some unremarkable moment, I finally realized that, in a place once familiar, I had slowly become a stranger.

The streets are still those same streets; their names unchanged, their directions unchanged, even the tree at the corner still standing where it always has.
Yet when I stand there, I cannot find a place that truly belongs to me.
It is not being lost, but a tacit sense born of drifting—always feeling that nowhere is entirely my own.

In the long course of wandering, I came to realize
that no place is completely unfamiliar, and no place is ever fully familiar.

When a person has been gone long enough, a hometown begins to rewrite its own narrative.
New orders, new relationships, new layers of memory pile one upon another,
and I am merely someone who remembers an older version.

Only later did I realize
that perhaps I never truly had a hometown to begin with.

Childhood is not fixed to a single coordinate,
but cut apart, transported, and settled across several different places.
The people in those places gradually lose their memory of me,
as if I had appeared only briefly,
never long enough to be remembered.

The relatively clear memories
(merely a psychological dwelling, though in reality the people and social relations of that place may already have changed)
remain confined to the period from sixth grade to middle school.

There once stood a white magnolia before the door,
reaching high toward the sky,
like light snow feathers drifting in a summer breeze.

Now it has long since withered,
leaving only shriveled branches behind.

Yet I still remember clearly the fragrance of its blossoms,
a faint scent seeming to spill from deep within memory,
gently encircling the space before the doorway.

While other scenes gradually blur and fade,
this white magnolia remains especially vivid—
not because it mattered more than anything else,
but because it left the most vivid imprint in my memory.

Before and after that time, places kept changing,
while emotions never had time to take root.

What is called “being unable to return”
is ultimately an acknowledgment of one’s own drifting self.
I can stay anywhere,
yet find it difficult to treat any one place
as my true whereabouts.

Perhaps what truly disappeared was not the hometown,
but the self that once grew slowly in a silent corner.

And yet, gradually, I came to understand:
perhaps true belonging
does not lie in deeply rooting oneself in a single place,
but in learning to build hidden connections
among multiple shallow roots.

Like those seemingly isolated fragments of memory—
a sixth-grade classroom,
street corners in different cities,
a withered white magnolia—
deep within my neural network,
they are exchanging nourishment in ways I cannot see,
slowly growing into a new, geography-transcending inner landscape.

The “hometown” lost in the text
is quietly being rebuilt within my written sentences,
in another form.

An Old Man

Thu, 15 Jan 2026 11:32:00 GMT

An old man said to me:
Taking fame and fortune too seriously will inevitably make one feel weary.

This is not hard to understand.
By the time one reaches his age, looking back, many obsessions naturally loosen.
It is a composure gained through experience—
not a disregard for fame, but no longer being controlled by it.

I can understand this state.
But I am also aware of my own stage in life.

Before I have truly stood firm,
talking about "letting go" often feels more like self-comfort.
Reality has not yet settled, and my position is still unclear,
leaving too early would bring instability at best, and chaos at worst.

The composure of those who came before comes as a gift of time;
but at this moment, I still need to face reality head-on,
and find my own place in society.

True letting go,
should not happen before one is able to stand firm,
but only at the moment when one truly has a choice.

I finished saying this.
The old man remained silent.

In that silence,
there was neither denial nor advice,
it was as if in acknowledgment, yet also waiting.

The Stranger Woman and My Childhood Self

Thu, 15 Jan 2026 04:02:00 GMT

Yesterday, a friend told me about a strange dream he had.

This dream is gentle, yet also "cruel".
The cruelty lies in this: the clearer the dream's gentleness, the more absolute its "cruelty" becomes.
(What you most desire can only be created by yourself within the dream.)

He said that in the dream, a stranger woman appeared before him, surrounded by a faint halo, as if a light mist hung in the air. Her gaze was gentle yet tinged with a trace of sadness.

The woman spoke: "I am the mother you lost when you were very young."
Her voice carried a soft greeting, as if saying: "How have you been? I have been waiting for you."

Then, she handed him a photograph—a picture of him as a child.

The photo appeared like an image emerging from the mist, carrying a kind of hazy warmth.
He paused for a moment and smiled bitterly: "The strange thing is, I have no memory of what I looked like as a child."

I listened, then asked after a moment of silence: "How did you feel at that moment?"

He replied softly: "It felt so real in the dream, as if someone had been watching me all along but could never reach me."

I nodded: "Perhaps that woman isn’t someone from reality, but a reminder from your subconscious—you were once seen, even if no one in reality ever told you."

The woman smiled gently, as if knowing he had grown up, no longer playing with toy helicopters, and so she brought him a bowl of his favorite century egg and lean pork congee.
Steam rose slowly, carrying the scent of home and a quiet sense of waiting—someone had been waiting for you.

He fell silent for a moment, as if digesting the possibility.
Then, he said softly: "Those things that should have belonged to me but never did—to be greeted and waited for, it turns out, feels so warm."

"Lost, not abandoned," I continued, "that wording in the dream is crucial. It helps you understand that loneliness and loss are not your fault."

His smile softened further: "Maybe I wasn't properly remembered in my childhood, but in the dream, she remembered for me."

At that moment, I suddenly understood: this dream wasn’t deceiving him but filling a void for him—a tender corner in the heart, something no one else could fill, yet deeply yearned for.

Looking at him, a quiet sense of emotion welled up inside me: even if something is missing in reality, one can always keep a little warmth in the heart.

Sometimes, we feel as if we are missing something or being overlooked.

But dreams like this remind us: absence does not mean worthlessness, and loneliness does not mean abandonment.

Even if no one in reality remembers the small details for us, we can still keep a tender corner in our hearts, allowing ourselves to be seen and warmed.

The light in the dream, the images in the dream—perhaps they are the sense of security we’ve always longed for deep within.

Read but Not Replied

Sat, 10 Jan 2026 05:20:00 GMT

People you once knew well,
got along effortlessly with,
laughed with more times
than you can recall today.

Later,
you went your separate ways,
contact gradually thinning out.

The message has been sent,
but no reply ever comes.
Or perhaps the other person curiously replies once, then disappears.

This does not mean coldness or dislike;
it only means that you are no longer
in the same
life coordinates.

People often focus
on “why didn’t they reply,”

while overlooking a simple fact:

not every message
deserves to enter
someone else’s
timeline.

A casual greeting,
an old memory—

on the other end,
they merely pass by.

Some words
are already understood,

but do not generate
any need
for continued exchange.

Read but not replied
is, in essence,
an outward manifestation of
relational prioritization.

Not because they’re busy,
and not necessarily because they dislike you;

more often than not—
the priority isn’t high enough,

or what you’re talking about
simply doesn’t fall within
their current
range of interest.

When someone still occupies
a place in your heart
with the preset
of “they should reply,”

silence
begins to carry meaning.

You reread
the message you sent,
speculating about
the reply that never came,

but the disappointment
does not arise from silence itself;

it comes from
the default settings
you’ve placed on this relationship—

you are still using
past closeness
to measure
present
presence.

Now,
I stand in a corner.

Neither anxious
nor angry,

just confirming
the reality of the relationship
and the position of my own emotions.

Past warmth has dispersed;
waiting and expectation
have been diluted
by time.

I slowly draw back
the care I once extended,

affirming that the self
still stands intact,
only that the relationship’s position
has shifted.

Read but not replied
is like a mirror.

What it reflects
is not the other person’s indifference,

but whether I am still
using old understandings
to interpret
a relationship
that has already changed;

it also reflects a fact—

communication does not occur
because one speaks,

but because
what is spoken
is received.

When I no longer treat
“a reply”
as a given,

no longer assume
that certain people
“should care,”

read but not replied
returns to its original place—

a status indicator,
not an emotional event.

Many times,
a problem doesn’t need
to be solved.

It only needs
to be seen clearly.

Some people interpret
“when I write something down”
as “I care deeply,”
and then equate that with
being “sentimental” or “fragile.”
To me,
this is a psychological
and cognitive bias.

First,
writing things down
does not equal
emotional loss of control.

For me,
this piece of writing
is neither an emotional diary
nor an accusation
nor a demand for response;
it is an act of observation
and clarification.

I write these words
to lay the issue out plainly,
to confirm the reality of the relationship
and my own position within it,
not to attempt recovery,
prove anything,
or demand feedback from the other side.

Often,
putting feelings into clear words
is itself a way
to stop emotions
from continuing to spread.

Second,
caring itself
does not equal weakness.

To me,
caring is a normal mechanism
of information processing;
the difference lies only
in how it operates:

caring that is pulled along by emotion
easily turns into inner exhaustion;

whereas observing care
as a phenomenon
becomes a form of
inner order.

The caring in this piece
is placed within
a cognitive framework;
it does not govern me.

Third,
others’ interpretations
are not equivalent
to my actual psychological state.

When someone believes
“writing it out means you haven’t let go,”
that reflects more
their own understanding
of emotional expression
than my present condition.

What truly matters
is not how the outside world judges,
but whether I have
seen the facts clearly,
adjusted my expectations,
and drawn my attention
back to myself.

To me,
writing is a process
of organizing self-understanding.

When observation is expressed,
logic completes its loop,
and emotion loses
the necessity
to keep pulling.

Where the words end
is often also
where the psyche
comes to rest.

Put simply:

Writing it out
does not equal weakness;
being repeatedly driven
by emotion does.

What I write
is not attachment,
but recognition.

老朝奉 No audience

Thu, 08 Jan 2026 05:20:00 GMT

老朝奉 probably doesn’t have much of an audience.

Someone asked: If it’s only for recording yourself, a private diary or encrypted document would suffice. So why does "老朝奉" have a website, putting articles out in the wilderness of the internet?
老朝奉 answers: Making the website public is to give ritual to the words, allowing me to face the world with a solitary stance, while leaving a door open for potential resonance, and to refine the clarity of the words under the tension of possible scrutiny.

Some people won’t click in.
It’s not that they don’t understand,
but they’re unsure if it’s worth their time.

In this hesitation,
any preconceived impression
can become a reason to give up.

But there’s another reason.
"老朝奉" The name itself makes some people uncomfortable.

It sounds too certain,
and carries a layer of elusive mystery.
This combination of authority and mystery,
even before understanding the content,
makes some people resist it from the start.

Interestingly,
in other places where "老朝奉" isn’t used as a name,
the same expression is easier to accept,
and readers accumulate more naturally.

It’s hard not to realize:
some resistance
doesn’t come from the content,
but from the posture the name conveys.

Some people feel that,
to endorse it,
would seem like admitting they are in a lower position;
while disliking it
makes them appear clear-headed, independent, unaffected.

So the easiest way,
is simply not to read, not to acknowledge, not to care.

Some come to learn certain areas of knowledge,
but there’s very little technical or tutorial content here,
so they don’t linger for long.

Some know that I have been writing here,
but they simply don’t care about the content,
nor do they have interest.
In my heart, I have to admit: we are perhaps not seeking the same scenery.

A friend of mine whom I've known for over ten years and still keep in touch with read it,
but he felt these words couldn't be mine.
Not because of a change in style,
but because in his entrenched perception,
"I" should not possess such expressive ability.
When the writing surpassed this preset notion,
he would rather doubt its origin
than update his judgment.

There are also those
who come with pre-prepared lenses.
They’re not really reading the words,
but measuring the writer by their own standards — whether the character meets their approval, or whether the economic status matches their own.
If it fails, the words are naturally not taken seriously.

This is not specifically referring to old acquaintances in my life. That pair of "pre-prepared lenses" wasn’t polished for me alone. They are built by the yellowed Daoist texts, gilded success manuals, and even the floating dust of the whole era. People just happen to put them on, looking at me, or any writer who enters their field of vision.

There are also those
who measure everything with more realistic and popular standards:
if an expression cannot bring profit,
it has no value.
In this system, if words cannot be converted into traffic, returns, or resources,
they naturally lose their meaning of existence.

I have seen all these reactions,
and I understand them.
They are not new,
they can even be said to be quite common.

Yet, when all perspectives are stacked together,
I suddenly realize a fact:
老朝奉’s writing has never existed to please others.

doesn’t try to justify itself,
doesn’t prove what it can write,
doesn’t defend its ability,
and doesn’t participate in value exchange.

is more like a record.
Recording a person who, without applause,
and without consensus,
still chooses to write down thoughts.

I am not in a hurry to defend the "lack of audience."
Being seen is certainly good,
but not being seen
does not equal nonexistence.

Some words
are simply not written for the majority.
They are more like marks left in time —
reminding oneself:
I have seen the world this way, and I have expressed myself this honestly.

If you happen to read this,
whether by chance or patience,
then these words — and the thoughts they carry — have at least accomplished one thing:
They have been understood once.

Someone asked: If it’s only for recording yourself, a private diary or encrypted document would suffice. So why does "老朝奉" have a website, putting articles out in the wilderness of the internet?
老朝奉 answers: Making the website public is to give ritual to the words, allowing me to face the world with a solitary stance, while leaving a door open for potential resonance, and to refine the clarity of the words under the tension of possible scrutiny.

As for whether there is an audience,
that has never been the premise for me to write.

ji

Tue, 06 Jan 2026 21:50:00 GMT

（Note: This poetic composition reconstructs the essence of the original lines using classical imagery, and currently has no corresponding English translation.）

罗俊鹏

《等》

三岁时，
你说让我等你五分钟。

二十三岁时，
你却还没回来。

爸，
我现在不要马路对面的冰糖葫芦了。

北岛

《一切》

一切都是命运
一切都是烟云

一切都是没有结局的开始
一切都是稍纵即逝的追寻

一切欢乐都没有微笑
一切苦难都没有泪痕

一切语言都是重复
一切交往都是初逢

一切爱情都在心里
一切往事都在梦中

一切希望都带着注释
一切信仰都带着呻吟

一切爆发都有片刻的宁静
一切死亡都有冗长的回声

《回答》

卑鄙是卑鄙者的通行证，
高尚是高尚者的墓志铭。

看吧，在那镀金的天空中，
飘满了死者弯曲的倒影。

冰川纪过去了，
为什么到处都是冰凌？

好望角发现了，
为什么死海里千帆相竞？

我来到这个世界上，
只带着纸、绳索和身影，

为了在审判之前，
宣读那些被判决了的声音：

告诉你吧，世界，
我——不——相——信！

纵使你脚下有一千名挑战者，
那就把我算做第一千零一名。

我不相信天是蓝的，
我不相信雷的回声；

我不相信梦是假的，
我不相信死无报应。

如果海洋注定要决堤，
就让所有的苦水都注入我心中；

如果陆地注定要上升，
就让人类重新选择生存的峰顶。

新的转机和闪闪的星斗，
正在缀满没有遮拦的天空，

那是五千年的象形文字，
那是未来人们凝视的眼睛。

海子

《面朝大海》

从明天起，做一个幸福的人
喂马，劈柴，周游世界

从明天起，关心粮食和蔬菜
我有一所房子，面朝大海，春暖花开

从明天起，和每一个亲人通信
告诉他们我的幸福

那幸福的闪电告诉我的
我将告诉每一个人

给每一条河
每一座山取一个温暖的名字

陌生人，我也为你祝福
愿你有一个灿烂的前程

愿你有情人终成眷属
愿你在尘世获得幸福

我只愿面朝大海，春暖花开

《我，以及其他的证人》

故乡的星和羊群
像一支支白色美丽的流水

跑过
小鹿跑过

夜晚的目光紧紧追着

在空旷的野地上，发现第一枝植物
脚插进土地
再也拔不出

那些寂寞的花朵
是春天遗失的嘴唇

为自己的日子
在自己的脸上留下伤口

因为没有别的一切
为我们作证

我和过去
隔着黑色的土地

我和未来
隔着无声的空气

我打算卖掉一切
有人出价就行

除了火种、取火的工具
除了眼睛

被你们打得出血的眼睛

一只眼睛留给纷纷的花朵
一只眼睛永不走出铁铸的城门

《单翅鸟》

单翅鸟为什么要飞呢
为什么

头朝着天地
躺着许多束朴素的光线

菩提，菩提想起
石头

那么多被天空磨平的面孔
都很陌生

堆积着世界的一半

摸摸周围
你就会捡起一块
砸碎另一块

单翅鸟为什么要飞呢
我为什么

喝下自己的影子
揪着头发作为翅膀
离开

也不知天黑了没有
穿过自己的手掌
比穿过别人的墙壁还难

单翅鸟
为什么要飞呢

肥胖的花朵
喷出水

我眯着眼睛离开
居住了很久的心和世界

你们都不醒来
我为什么
为什么要飞呢

《黑井》

我请求：雨
我请求熄灭

生铁的光
爱人的光和阳光

我请求下雨
我请求
在夜里死去

我请求在早上
你碰见
埋我的人

岁月的尘埃无边
秋天

我请求
下一场雨
洗清我的骨头

我的眼睛合上
我请求

雨
雨是一生过错
雨是悲欢离合

《写给脖子上的菩萨》

呼吸，呼吸
我们是装满热气的
两只小瓶

被菩萨放在一起

菩萨是一位很愿意
帮忙的
东方女人

一生只帮你一次

这也足够了

通过她
也通过我自己

双手碰到了你，你的
呼吸

两片抖动的小红帆
含在我的唇间

菩萨知道

菩萨住在竹林里
她什么都知道

知道今晚
知道一切恩情

知道海水是我
洗着你的眉

知道你就在我身上
呼吸

菩萨愿意
菩萨心里非常愿意

就让我出生
让我长成的身体上
挂着潮湿的你

The Door Crack

Tue, 06 Jan 2026 17:20:00 GMT

I came home from work, and just stepped into the hallway when I heard urgent sounds coming from the neighbor's door crack.

The man's voice was low, yet heavy, rumbling through the hallway like distant thunder:

"Go get something, are your feet filled with lead?"

Then came the sound of a chair being dragged, a bit grating.
A boy, with a whimper in his voice, tried to argue softly—his voice was too small, hard to hear through the door crack.
A woman tried to intervene with a few words, attempting to calm things down, but only made the situation more chaotic.

Finally, a "bang"—
something fell to the ground, or the door was slammed shut heavily.

Suddenly, everything was quiet.

That kind of silence was even more unsettling than the earlier noise,
as if the air had suddenly grown heavy.

I took out my keys and entered my home.
The room was quiet, a cup of plain water sat on the table.
I sat down without turning on the lights.

The motion-sensor light in the hallway went out,
and darkness slowly seeped into my room.

I suddenly thought of that father—
I had seen him in the elevator during the day; he looked like a fairly gentle middle-aged man, nodding politely.
But the voice from behind the door just now sounded like a different person.

What was he angry about at that moment?

Was it that the child was moving too slowly, delaying things?
Or was it that his words went unanswered,
like throwing a stone into water, hearing no splash, only watching the ripples spread?

Maybe he wasn’t actually angry at the child.
Perhaps he had been holding something inside all along—
frustrations from work, unspoken grievances,
or the helpless irritation at many things in life.

The child's "slowness" just became the outlet.

The child looked frightened,
the wife seemed hesitant to speak,
and after the door closed, he was left alone facing that heavier, more uncomfortable silence…
He probably wasn’t feeling good either.

Think about it, which family hasn’t had moments like this?
Sudden anger, unclear emotions,
can instantly ruin what had been a relatively peaceful night.

And the real problem
is often not the small matter in front of them,
but something deeper.

I finished the cup of water and turned on the light.
The room lit up.

Next door was still quiet.
I didn’t know if the door behind them
was still tense,
or if someone had already softened, saying a few other words.

Arguments will always stop.
But some traces quietly remain.
The unseen places,
are what a home truly needs to be slowly repaired.

After sitting for a while, my thoughts returned to that neighbor’s door.

If you break down the scene just now,
it was actually tiny—
just "going to get something."

Yet, it’s precisely these moments that are easiest to spiral out of control.

In his expectation,
it should have been a simple process:
words spoken, task completed immediately.
Like flipping a switch, the light turns on.

When the feedback didn’t come promptly,
a subtle, stinging sensation surfaced—
it wasn’t that the task wasn’t done,
but that "my words didn’t take effect immediately."

At that moment, things had already started to twist.

He probably didn’t stop at
"the child was just a little slow,"
but quickly labeled the delay in his mind:

disobedient, careless,
even disrespectful.

The hesitation in action
was translated into an issue of attitude,
and the small matter was magnified
into a challenge to authority.

So, anger appeared.

But beneath the anger,
there were often other layers.

Maybe it was the frustration that hadn’t been processed during the day—
yielding all day at work, in the world,
and coming home, realizing not even a word could "move anyone."

This feeling
can easily hit the places people least want to face.

There’s also something more hidden: shame.

Realizing you "aren’t that significant,"
is hard to accept.
Facing it directly is difficult,
so it’s simpler to cover it with anger.

When his wife tried to mediate,
he might not have felt rationally pulled back, instead feeling pushed to the opposite side.

Those mediating words,
in the heat of emotion,
probably sounded more like a denial.

Layered isolation,
and the fire could no longer be contained.

Low growls, dragging chairs, slamming doors—
these actions were, on the surface, a vent, but in reality a way to reclaim
a sense of "I can still control the situation."

Sound and force
became the fastest, roughest tools.

But the moment the door closed,
it really was over.

After the tide of anger subsided,
what remained was rarely relief,
but heavier silence.

The things suppressed moments ago—
regret, fatigue, guilt—
slowly surfaced.

He knew he had overreacted,
and saw the child’s fear and the wife’s helplessness.
Yet apologies can be harder than anger,
because they require admitting one’s own vulnerability and loss of control.

He won one round of "obedience,"
but may have lost something more important.

At this point, I suddenly realized,
many family arguments
don’t actually start in the present,
but much earlier, farther back.

The helplessness from outside brought back into the home;
a home, meant to be a warm harbor,
became the place where emotions are easiest to lose control,
and most hurtful.

The door slammed shut,
separating the argument,
and temporarily blocking
understanding that could have happened.

If there’s anything that truly needs repair,
it’s never just
"who was a little slow,"
but those
things that weren’t properly seen,
and things that weren’t properly spoken.