I feel as though we are constantly swept up in storms of change. Social transformation is dissolving grand narratives, while also compelling us to create personal meaning. In this historical moment, nothing is guaranteed.

I do not pretend to have no understanding, nor do I submit to the idea that one must clearly comprehend the suffering of existence. It simply happens, and the only thing I can do is accept it and move forward—striving to find, from my own perspective, a point of balance.

It seems inevitable to live in a state of constant change and, at times, profound solitude. Yet perhaps this is not entirely a bad thing: it allows us to see more clearly and know ourselves more deeply. The task, then, is to build an inner order and find a way to live within it.

It is a little sad, recently.
I suppose for many reasons.

Some companies have already moved on, and many teams are downsizing. Outsourced colleagues are the first to go. People are leaving, some lucky enough to transfer to other projects, even if far away; others now practicing LeetCode, memorizing problems, preparing for interviews they never expected to take.

It’s hard to stay light.
I’ve worked closely with many of them. As a new graduate, some guided me through those early days, how to be a programmer, how to grow, through all the conflicts and frustrations. I’ve noticed something: as a backend engineer, most were willing to help, to teach, to guide. In contrast, others—project managers, product managers, frontend developers, QA, often seemed less devoted. Especially the product managers.
Yet backends are generally diligent, hardworking. And yet, ironically, many of the outsourced backend and frontend developers are now leaving, while some of those product managers will stay.

As what they call “self-owned R&D,” I don’t feel better than them. I just happen to be a formal employee here. There’s no pride in that, only a quiet sadness.
They gave me a complete lesson in career, not just in code, but in what work really means.

I appreciate them.
But now there is much I must handle alone, and that is frightening. I hope I am ready. I am willing to step forward.

The economy is hard. Life is unkind. Downsizing is everywhere.
All I can keep is patience, and hope.
Good luck, everyone, in this drifting wind.

I’m writing this post to capture a feeling — though I can’t quite define what it is, nor come up with a proper title. So, let’s just call it Snapshot, like those untitled Chinese poems of the past (wuti, 无题). I don’t know if anyone will ever read this and feel like they’ve gotten to know me, but I hold on to the faint hope that somewhere out there, someone might stumble upon this — and realize that, once, a person tried to document a fleeting moment of his life.

By the way, I’m writing this in IntelliJ IDEA. I assume if you’re reading this, you probably found it through GitHub or a similar site — which means you’ve already figured out I’m a programmer. So yeah, no surprise there. Speaking of IDEA, the AI code completion tool keeps suggesting words while I type. I didn’t disable it — it’s actually kind of amusing to see what the AI thinks I’m about to say. At the very least, it makes writing a bit less boring. Haha.

I used to think of myself as a nihilist — someone who believed in nothing, cared for nothing, someone who simply stood apart and observed. But after a year of working, transitioning from postgraduate life into a full-time job, I’ve started to feel the real weight of what I once called “nothingness.”

Even the things I once thought I was passionate about now feel like dry sand slipping through my fingers. Without the water of hope, it drains away — quietly, steadily — and with it, my energy, my life. I’m beginning to truly see the power society holds. No matter how mentally resilient you think you are, there comes a point where you must yield — morally, legally, or emotionally.

Back in university, I didn’t think too much about the meaning of life — and honestly, I didn’t need to. I was young, studying computer science — a field that felt full of promise. My parents were healthy, and life was stable. I called myself a nihilist then, but in truth, I had never really suffered. I had never truly stared into the void.

That said, if you asked me whether I felt happy back then, I still wouldn’t be able to give a clear yes — not even now, looking back. And if I had been asked in that moment, my answer might’ve been even more bleak. It’s kind of funny, but also quietly sad.

I know, from some future perspective, I might one day look back on this current phase of life and consider it “a good time.” But standing here, as I am now, I still can’t offer a positive answer. Haha. I’m not even sure what I’m trying to say anymore.

Maybe what I’m really getting at is this: to become a true nihilist — especially an existential one — takes immense courage, hard-earned experience, and a kind of weathered wisdom. It reminds me of that old poem:

少年不识愁滋味，爱上层楼。
爱上层楼，为赋新词强说愁。
而今识尽愁滋味，欲说还休。
欲说还休，却道“天凉好个秋”。

As a youth, I knew not the taste of sorrow, yet I longed to ascend high towers —
Just to craft verses, pretending to grieve.
Now I’ve tasted every shade of sorrow, I hesitate to speak of it.
And when I do, I simply say, “What a fine autumn chill.”

I just spent about two weeks in Guangzhou, and it was quite an experience. Guangzhou is truly distinct from Beijing in numerous ways, not only in its use of the Cantonese dialect and the unique regional characteristics of its people, but in many other aspects as well. One striking observation was the sheer number of electric motorbikes that seem to be everywhere. It can be a bit intimidating when so many rush past you in such close proximity.

The night market was equally impressive—expansive, bustling, and full of life. Although I typically refrain from ordering food late at night, I found myself indulging in dim sum during my stay. The taste was moderate—neither exceptionally good nor bad—which reminded me of my past experiences in Canberra, especially since I rarely have dim sum since returning to China.

Regarding work, I spent most of my time there immersed in my professional responsibilities, which left me quite exhausted. Nonetheless, I recognize that this intense period of work has led to significant personal growth. As they say, quantitative change leads to qualitative change—I feel I am well on my way in that process.

However, the longer I stayed in Guangzhou, the more I found myself yearning to return to Beijing. I believe that life in Guangzhou might be easier—living costs, especially rent, can be as much as 20% to 40% lower than in Beijing. Even while staying in a hotel, I noticed numerous signs advertising extremely affordable rentals, though I’m not sure if one can earn a comparable income there.

Moreover, in Guangzhou, there appear to be few restrictions when it comes to buying cars and apartments, making it an attractive place to live. Yet, despite these advantages, I still feel a strong pull to go back to Beijing. Perhaps I’m simply tired of constant travel and crave stability. Ironically, my decision to visit Guangzhou initially stemmed from a desire to break free from a long-held comfort zone. Now, I wonder if I’ll ever find inner peace or if I’ll simply continue to create dilemmas for myself.

It has been an incredibly long time since I last wrote any notes. Life has undergone numerous significant changes once again, and I simply haven’t been able to find a moment of spare time to document them. However, I firmly believe that putting these experiences into words is crucial. It serves not only as a record of my life but also as a testament to my struggles and my very existence, even if it all may ultimately seem ephemeral.

After half a year of interning, I finally transitioned to a full-time position in January. Thankfully, there weren’t too many difficulties, and I’m just astounded by how quickly time has flown by. Another major achievement is that I passed the CDGA exam. This accomplishment makes me feel really good.

There’s so much more that I feel I could write about, but at this moment, I find myself a bit tongue-tied. I’m currently in a unique phase of life, filled with a complex mix of bitterness and sweetness, along with challenges and setbacks. I sincerely hope that all those who read this are doing well in their work and leading fulfilling lives.

Every night, as I lie down on my bed, ready to sleep after the daily routine of either work or rest, my life flashes before me like sparks from a burning campfire. I feel the passage of my life slipping away, tasting the bitterness of regrets. I resist the indescribable grace of it all, seeking the identity of my own existence. Yet, sadly, it seems to be a complete void. Despite this, I still don’t want to sleep. Just staying awake feels like enough, satisfying even if, in the end, everything is empty and meaningless.

Every morning, as I wake up and face the beginning of a new day whether work or rest, the world crashes down on me like the ashes of a volcano’s eruption. I endure the complexity of the world, swallowing its gray sky. I accept the nameless force that guides it all, yet I still doubt the role of this identity I’ve been given. Sadly, it feels as hollow as before. Still, I must awaken. Simply being alive feels non-negotiable and inevitable, even when nothing really seems to matter.

It has been nearly three weeks since I formally started working at the company. To be honest, it hasn’t been very intensive, and I think they are indeed giving me quite a lot of time to study things related to our work, either through watching online video tutorials or reading some documents.

I’m still trying to find the rhythm of working in the company and to discover the most comfortable and suitable way for myself. Deep in my heart, I hope to have a complete and meaningful day, even if it can be quite intensive. On the other hand, I desperately refuse to sacrifice my personal time. My life has to be separate from work; during weekends and after work hours, I strongly prefer to deal with my personal matters. This makes me puzzled and confused.

My life inevitably has to revolve around work, even though I don’t want it to. But that’s life—I trade my time for the resources that keep me alive. It’s sad, but I try to find meaning in this monotonous routine. Spending less time being introverted and reflecting on myself makes me less agile and sensitive in mind, which is quite obvious. I can easily tell because I feel tired when I finish work and return home. However, this might be a good thing. Life is sometimes hard and painful; let time pass and free your mind. Thinking or not thinking will not really change the world. I cannot even change my own life, and sadly, whether I’m alive or not, the earth will still turn.

After a 5-hour journey on the CRH train, I finally arrived in Beijing. I’m about to start a new chapter and begin my career here. I still feel dizzy, and everything in front of me seems like a dream. So far, everything has gone smoothly, and the weather is quite pleasant.

Regarding Beijing and me, I visited Beijing last year for a flight transfer at the airport. Before that, I came with my family in 2008 to see the Olympic Games, which was 16 years ago. I would never have expected that after so many years and so much traveling, I would one day return to Beijing to start my first professional career.

Even though it is my first day in Beijing, I already feel some differences between Beijing and Shanghai. I’m not really sure since it is my first day here, but in simple words, people in Shanghai seem to have more discipline and tend to follow publicly assumed rules. I will observe further in the coming days.

So far, I don’t have much to say but simply want to document this moment and my feelings. I have no idea what the future holds for me, both professionally and in daily life. I hope everything will be fine, and I will be capable of dealing with whatever comes my way. At the very end, I hope anyone reading this note has a nice day and lives positively.

Between mid-May and mid-June, I embarked on a crazy sojourn, primarily staying in Shanghai while trying to understand why the city is so highly regarded by students returning from abroad. Indeed, Shanghai is a city of vast opportunities and high living standards. The fusion of Eastern and Western cultures gives the city an exotic charm.

Additionally, I visited Zhoushan in Zhejiang to explore Putuo Mountain and traveled to Suzhou to see its gardens and streets, embracing Buddhist traditions and glimpsing the charm of the Qing and Ming Dynasties.

Shanghai is an amazing city, attracting many educated individuals seeking opportunities and wealth. The city exudes a modern vibe, and people maintain a polite distance from one another. You can find almost anything you want in Shanghai; it’s simply a matter of money. While money indeed rules everything nowadays, the variety of choices Shanghai offers is truly vast.

Putuo Mountain and the gardens and streets of Suzhou did not leave a strong impression on me. I prefer modern cities and have a fundamental inclination towards nihilism. I don’t subscribe to most Buddhist concepts, but I do appreciate some ideas related to void and nihilism. Many people pray in front of rock or plastic Buddha sculptures, which surprised me, especially seeing many young people aged 20-40. However, Buddha said that all beings are equal, so it’s perplexing why people feel the need to pray to cheap sculptures. Moreover, everything on the island is exorbitantly priced, about three times the cost in Shanghai, which I find ridiculous.

Suzhou, however, was enjoyable. It’s clear that people there strive to preserve traditional culture while creating business opportunities, such as with Hanfu and Suzhou embroidery. I visited the Humble Administrator’s Garden, but it was crowded with girls in Hanfu and men with cameras taking their photos. The noise and crowd were quite annoying, especially given the garden’s small size and the need to carefully observe its design. On the other hand, the Suzhou Museum was incredible and highly recommended. It features many historical cultural items and uses good technology to enhance the visitor experience. The museum also collaborates with other museums worldwide, offering insights into hidden histories from around the globe. Lastly, the Suzhou Industrial Park was impressive. I loved the city and its vibe, reminiscent of Singapore, with a very cozy and modern feel.