A netizen said to me:
“Zhang Xiangqian, I care about you and your cause. I was planning to introduce you to some heavyweights, but why can’t you handle even a bit of criticism? When Tiandao ××× mildly criticized you, you blocked him. Do you even know who Tiandao ××× is?”
Another said:
“Zhang Xiangqian, we care about you and your work, offering you suggestions, but you don’t reply. You’re this arrogant before even succeeding? If you do succeed, will you still remember the netizens who helped you?”
I’m not an arrogant person—I’ve despised arrogant people my whole life. Right now, I’m working while self-studying advanced mathematics. I know that mastering it will greatly boost my chances of success. I don’t have time to check WeChat often—I usually just skim through it quickly and move on.
Many netizens suggest I reach out to this or that person, write to so-and-so or some organization. I’ve tried all these suggestions, and many netizens have helped me write letters over the years, but it’s been fruitless—total failure. Those people and organizations neither reject nor affirm you; they just don’t reply, leaving you helpless.
Some suggest I research other fields, make money from achievements there, and then develop a flying saucer. Others say I should build a small saucer first. Some urge me to study gods and Buddhas, or pursue cultivation, spirituality, or spiritual practice. One even claimed someone has mastered full alien saucer tech and is selling it publicly, telling me to buy it for 2,000 yuan. Are these good suggestions? Clearly, they’re terrible ideas.
I’m not someone who can’t handle criticism—even harsh criticism, I can accept. But I’m not a fool. Some aren’t criticizing me; they’re trying to crush my confidence. Why? Because they can’t stand a farmer challenging things that don’t fit his status.
If I were successful now, with a high social standing, your criticism would showcase your courage. But I haven’t succeeded yet. My family insults me, my neighbors mock me, and I’m under immense pressure. Then you pile on with criticism to undermine my confidence—what kind of people are you?
For thousands of years, Chinese society has been full of people who kiss up to the powerful and trample the weak—praising the elite while viciously stomping on the downtrodden. Especially those from the bottom who persistently strive, they face relentless ridicule. Why not mock the prominent and lofty? Because you don’t dare! You feel safe picking on someone like me.
These people never reflect on their actions. They gain a sense of superiority and pleasure by mocking the efforts of the underclass—especially those still struggling, yet to succeed.
Among those around me, I’ve noticed many love mocking others to feel high and mighty. Upstairs, there’s a skinny man in his 50s who, with nothing better to do, sits at my doorstep chatting. When I weld for a customer, charging 5 yuan per rod, he’ll say—whenever my wife’s nearby—“Others charge 10 yuan for this. Your A-Qian doesn’t know how to charge.”
My wife explodes at that, cursing me:
“You damn dog, what kind of welding shop is this? You don’t even earn enough to cover the electricity! Tomorrow, sell this junk as scrap and shut it down, you useless piece of ×!”
Seeing her berate me, the skinny man smirks quietly on the side. Why does he provoke fights between us? Turns out, he has a grown son who can’t find a partner, and his wife takes all his wages, leaving him with a pittance. He’s miserable, a failure, and seeks superiority by belittling me and stirring up our quarrels.
But my wife never sees through his scheme—she just keeps raging at me every time. I’ve warned him repeatedly: “I charge 5 yuan per rod, earning 50 yuan an hour, 500 yuan a day. How much do you make at your job? What gives you the right to mock me?” Yet he doesn’t relent, still mocking me in front of my wife in every way he can.
Today, someone from our village came to my door asking about my son—whether he’s found a partner. I said he’s a bit “yang” [local slang for rebellious], refusing to tell us the truth, so we’re not sure if he’s dating. We’re anxious about it. My wife overheard, tore into me, saying I shouldn’t talk like that.
With the COVID situation lately, my throat’s sore, my mood’s awful, and I didn’t dare argue—I just walked away. But she chased after me, cursing relentlessly. I didn’t feel angry—just bitter, tired, and disgusted. I feel Chinese people lack tolerance; we rub against each other like stones, with no lubricant to ease the friction.
Don’t the cursers and attackers ever get tired? Don’t they grow weary? What’s the point of yelling over petty things all day?
To those criticizing me online: if it’s genuine criticism, I welcome it—especially constructive feedback, which helps me. But if it’s just mockery to undermine my confidence, I ignore it. If you keep harassing me, I’ll block you—I don’t want to argue.
You’ve never aimed to achieve anything, so you’ve got nothing to lose, finding joy in constant insults. I’m trying to accomplish something, so I have to be cautious. Those subtly discouraging me—like hinting the U.S. already has flying saucers, implying my efforts are futile—save your breath. If I succeed, humanity transforms; if I don’t, no big deal—I’m just a farmer, the lowest of the low. I can’t fall much further.
But what if I do succeed? A man certain to be society’s bottom rung suddenly shines with dazzling brilliance.