Interviewee not pictured
Note from Kuang:
我们采访结束不久，韩闯回到他的老家河间，一个位于沧州的小县城，开始他生活的新篇章。前几天他在微信发了一则短视频，宣布“喜得千金一枚”，语气里藏不住的开心。
Not long after our interview, Han Chuang moved from Beijing to his hometown Hejian, a small county located in Hebei, to start his new life chapter. He soon announced the arrival of his baby girl: “We had a little princess,” he said, his voice filled with happiness.
Han Chuang, male, 31, from Hebei, veterinarian
The last time I was back in my hometown, I went for a motorbike ride, speeding down all the roads. It felt very cool.
After I started working I saved up for the bike. It cost over 10,000 kuai. It’s a three-wheel motorbike painted army green, with one of those separate seats on the right side.
I’ve always dreamed of riding to the southernmost point of China, visiting every city and village along the way. The plan is to work for a while, then travel until my money runs out. I’ve even carefully calculated the number of towns and cities in China.
The reality is, I live as dull and conventional a life as most people in the city. Every day I get up when my alarm rings for a second time, then commute for over an hour on the metro. The rest of my day I’m busy dealing with routine tasks.
The good thing is that I do like my job. And I get along well with my colleagues. Treating animals can be stressful, but there are some touching moments too. I remember once, performing a cesarean on a dog, I noticed how her internal organs resembled a million high-speed expressways, all helping to channel nutrients to her babies. That really struck me, the grand miracle of what life is.
I started working as a vet as soon as I graduated from college. There was one time where I tried to “run away.” It was my second or third year in the job. One day I suddenly thought to myself: “Is this it? Is the rest of my life just going to be like this?” I decided to try something different. I quit my job and left Beijing for a small coastal city called Yantai in Shandong province. I worked in a pet hospital during the day, and set up a stand selling barbecue until late in the night. It was a blast.
I spent three careless months in Yantai, until I had to go back for a good friend’s wedding. I rode a bicycle and hung a banner on it that read “Wish my friend xxx a happy wedding!” I rode along the coast for 11 days before I finally arrived.
My friend’s wedding was a kind of waking-up point, yanking me from my life in Yantai back into reality. After the celebration, I returned to Beijing and continued my former job.
2017 was a watershed year for me. Three things happened: I finally earned my veterinarian license, I pooled enough money to make the down payment for an apartment in my hometown, and most important of all, I met my future wife.
I used to have a lot of uncertainties about marriage, including how to get along with the other person’s family. Many of these worries turned out to be overthinking. Everyone in our two families is ready to support each other whenever needed. My wife is very considerate too. It didn’t matter to her when my family couldn’t pay the full bride price, and she didn’t ask for expensive engagement jewelry. We both believe that as long as we’re together, that’s all we really need.
I’ve developed very different perspectives and changed my life priorities since I got married. Things I used to worry about no longer bother me. The only thing that hasn’t changed is my dream to travel all around China. When I often talk to my wife about this, she not only tells me that she understands but that she fully supports it. She said that wherever I went, she would take time off work to come and visit me.
I know she means it. But I also know that it’s unrealistic. We’re having our first baby soon—my wife is due at the end of the month. I decided to leave Beijing to start my own pet clinic back home. I have anxieties about starting my own business but, at the same time, I feel even more excited about the new beginning, and the future that we’re going to build together as a family.
I haven’t so much as touched my motorbike in a while. I left it in my hometown, where it’s been gathering dust. My father said some people in the village have asked about it, and encouraged me to sell . Of course I’m not going to sell! Even if I never get to ride it again, I’d still like to keep it, perhaps just as a reminder of the very different life I could have lived.
Looking back on my 30 years, it really seems like I have lived such an ordinary life. But whose life isn’t ordinary? No matter who you are, no matter how much money you have, everyone is ordinary in the end. We are all tiny gears in a mechanical clock, and just because you are the gear that makes the alarm sound doesn’t make you extraordinary.
I figure that 80 percent of life feels like you are dreaming, only the remaining 20 percent feels real. It reminds me of an old song I came across the other day. A couple lines in the song’s lyrics really stayed with me: “The wad of bank notes in your hand gets bigger and bigger, but none of you know what you’re so busy for.”
I read an online comment that said this is a strange song. But I don’t think that the song is strange. I think that people are strange. I wonder: Do we really know what we’re busy for?
Edited by Dan Xin Huang
韩闯，男，31岁，河北沧州人，兽医
上次回老家，我骑着摩托车在村子周边兜风，感觉特别酷。
车是我工作之后花一万多买的，是俩三轮摩托，军绿色，右边有独立座位的那种。
我一直有个梦想，就是骑着我的摩托车，走遍中国各个城市和乡村，一直到最南端。我想上一段时间班，赚了钱就出去旅游，钱花完了再回来。我甚至拿出计算器，认真算了算中国所有城市和乡村的数量。
现实是，我的生活跟这座城市大多数人一样，单调，按部就班。早上闹钟响第二遍，我才不情愿地起床，坐一个多小时地铁赶到单位，开始一天的工作，处理上班的大小事情。
好在我的工作算是我喜欢的，同事关系也不错。处理动物临床，压力挺大的，也有不少感动的时刻。记得有一次给狗做剖腹产，看到它的体内就像修了无数条高速公路，把所有的营养供给孩子，真真切切感受到生命的伟大。
我大学毕业之后一直从事这个行业，曾经“出走”过一次。那时我在宠物医院已经工作了两三年，有一天我突然问自己，难道就一直干这行吗，以后的生活就这样了吗？我决定尝试点不一样的东西，便从北京辞职，去到山东烟台，白天在动物医院上班，晚上在烧烤摊卖烧烤，跟打了鸡血一样。
在烟台几乎什么都没想，过了差不多三个月，从小一块长大的好哥们儿结婚，我用自行车拉了一条横幅，上面写着“祝我的好哥们儿某某某新婚快乐！”从烟台沿海路线骑回沧州，花了11天时间。
朋友的婚礼相当于一个节点，把我从出走的生活拉回现实，婚礼结束我回到北京继续原来的工作。
2017年是我人生的分水岭。我在那一年完成三件大事，终于考到兽医从业资格证，凑够首付在老家买了一套房，更重要的，是遇到了我媳妇。
我原本对婚姻有很多恐慌，包括跟对方家庭的磨合。后来发现很多担心都是多余，我们两家亲如一家，有什么问题都互相帮衬。我媳妇也处处为我着想，我家条件不好，结婚彩礼不够，她反而跟我一起想办法，金银首饰，她也都不要求。我俩都觉得只要能在一起，其他事情都不重要。
结婚之后，我的很多想法都发生了改变，很多事不再那么在乎和纠结了，唯一没变的，是想要骑摩托车云游四海。我不时跟她念叨，她不仅理解，还表示全力支持。她说不论我去到哪个城市，她可以趁放假过去陪我待几天，再回来上班。
我知道她是真心支持我，但我也知道眼下根本不现实。我很快要当爸爸了，媳妇预产期就在这个月底。我决定离开北京回老家创业，开一家自己的宠物医院。我有创业的忐忑，但更多是兴奋，和对未来一家三口生活的无限憧憬。
我很久没碰我的摩托车了，车子停在家里，已经落了一层灰，我爸说村里有人来问多少钱，问我要不要把车卖了。我当然不卖！哪怕只是放在那里，到老可能也没骑，但至少给我留个念想，可以想象另一种不一样的生活。
这么回看我的三十年人生，好像太普通了些。但谁又不是普通人呢？不论怎样的身份，拥有多少财富，所有人到最后都归于普通。大家都是机械钟上的零件，不会因为你是敲响钟的那一个就高贵些。
我觉得人生百分之八十像在做梦，只有另外百分之二十是真实的，清醒的。就像那天偶尔听到的一首老歌，其中两句歌词给我触动比较深：“手里钞票越来越多，可你们自己也不知忙些什么。”底下有评论说，这什么歌奇奇怪怪的。
奇怪的不是歌，是我们人吧，我想，这些人有没有听出这首歌的主要信息呀，他们知道自己在忙些什么吗？
Kuang is the founder of Beijing Lights. She would love to hear your thoughts about the column and is open to new collaborations. She can be reached at kuang [at] spittooncollective [dot] com.