It’s embarrassing, really.

After all this time, I’m only now figuring out what I actually want.

I want to be a free scholar in a free land. I want to live this life on my own terms. I want to be proud of who I am.

I used to think I could make it work anywhere. Turns out I was wrong. I can feel it—keep going like this and there’s only one outcome: death. And the spirit dies first, long before the body.

Run. Run for your life.

This goddamn place—what’s the point of staying?

Last year, during the pandemic lockdowns, I spent three months confined at home, on and off.

I’d had plans, projects, things to do. But once they actually locked down the compound, my mind went blank except for one obsession. I became like a caged dog. Every morning, first thing: rush downstairs to check if they’d opened the gates yet. Disappointed every single time. Then I’d stand there glaring at the hazmat suits guarding the entrance, radiating defiance.

Some birds aren’t meant to be caged. What does freedom mean?

Nothing. Everything. Worth nothing. Worth everything.

The pandemic didn’t just wear me down—it severed whatever emotional ties I had left to this land and these people. I understand people’s choices and fates better now.

Saw @erdaye on Twitter discussing the “victim narrative.” I get his moral reluctance to judge victims harshly. But there’s something detached about it, watching from a safe distance.

Here’s the paradox: If you pity their plight, you’re denying their agency—their rationality, their autonomy. If you respect their agency, you forfeit the right to pity them.

Put differently: who the hell are you to decide others don’t know what they want? What makes you think your way would better serve their interests? Intellectuals and idealists always wanting to change society, change others—but half the time it’s just their own power trip.

But both extremes miss the point. Nobody’s completely autonomous and rational. Hell, I can’t even quit smoking, and here I am lecturing about rationality and autonomy.

Think of an abusive relationship—manipulation, gaslighting, violence. We pity the victim, naturally. But viewing them purely as victim is naive, underestimates human complexity. Maybe they do feel genuine love. Maybe they find meaning, belonging. Maybe surrendering control brings relief—no more exhausting choices, someone else making all the decisions. A friend recently confessed something like this to me.

I thought about this worshipping Guanyin at Nanhai: you relieve suffering, sure—but can you save people from their own stupidity?

If someone makes a stupid choice bound to cause suffering, and you’re a compassionate deity, what do you do? Grant their wish and let them suffer? Or override their will and save them anyway?

I lean toward respecting their will.

It’s not just the system or strangers that grind you down.

Recently discovered an old high school friend (Guangguang) deleted me. I want to say I’m used to it. But honestly? I’m pissed. My memory doesn’t forget anything. Same dorm room. His math talent outstripping mine in high school (I just had no glaring weaknesses). His signature fadeaway on the court. Visiting them when his wife was pregnant.

I hadn’t posted anything lately, so I asked his wife what happened. Classic Henan move—she’d rather lie to my face than give me straight talk. All I got was vague muttering about my “extreme views.”

How tiresome.

Why do you think you get to police my thoughts? Because we happened to be born in the same place? So I’m automatically bound to your positions, required to think within your prescribed templates?

I wish you’d just treat me like a foreigner. I don’t want to be your compatriot. Being your compatriot is nothing but bad luck—zero benefits, infinite obligations.

I’ve been dancing around this, afraid to say it outright. Not anymore. Let me be clear:

I don’t want to be Chinese.

Everything mainstream Chinese culture values—aside from bare survival—runs counter to what I believe. Three things especially disgust me: first, the hierarchy and casual discrimination everywhere; second, the unprincipled social Darwinism, stepping on neighbors to get ahead, moral bankruptcy; third, the intolerance—zero capacity for different views.

Stop counting me as part of the Chinese collective. Just treat me as a foreigner who happens to speak the language.

I want to be a free scholar in a free land. I want to shed this narrow ethnic identity, transcend nation and race and faith, push toward something higher, deeper, find solid ground to stand on, escape ignorance and confusion and chains, achieve actual spiritual freedom.

And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

I want to live on my own terms. I want to be proud of myself.

So if not Chinese, what then?

Fanfan says I’m positioning myself as “Earthling.” Close, but not quite right.

The problem is the utilitarian framework lurking underneath. You know the logic: collective interest equals moral compass. Whatever tribe you belong to, that tribe’s interests become your north star.

I reject this completely.

I’ve been skeptical of utilitarian ethics since middle school (probably reading about “pulling one hair to benefit the world”):

Why is the selfishness of a thousand people nobler than my individual selfishness?

It’s not. It’s just shamelessness times a thousand. Still shameless.

Say pure selfishness has zero moral value. Helping others is positive, hurting others for gain is negative. Then a thousand people’s selfishness equals one person’s selfishness. A thousand times zero is still zero. Nobody’s morally superior.

Same goes for sacrificing one person to save a hundred million—zero moral justification. Actually, it’s committing evil a hundred million times over. Unless the sacrifice is fair or voluntary—like drawing lots where anyone could be the victim.

Everything else? Shameless. Standing in safety while righteously demanding others sacrifice themselves—peak obscenity.

That’s why Kantian ethics resonate with me. Always have.

Justice first. No complex calculations required. Majorities and minorities irrelevant. Actions from good will have value regardless of outcome. And vice versa.

Which brings me to the word that captures my position:

Integrity.

Usually translated as 正直 (zhengzhi) in Chinese.

But this word deserves unpacking—it’s incredibly rich. My current understanding includes at least these layers:

  1. Moral law grounded in reason and universality
  2. Principles that survive scrutiny—theoretically coherent, internally consistent
  3. Unconditional commitment to those principles. Walk the talk. Find courage when scared. Stay uncorrupted, unbowed.
  4. No exceptions—not for yourself, not for anyone. No discrimination. No special pleading.
  5. Honesty. No lies to others. No lies to yourself.

This word encompasses everything I value. More important than kindness, even. Kindness without integrity? Insufferable sometimes.

Example: A Beijing urbanite vacations at a Hebei farmhouse. Sincerely admires the fresh air. Earnestly advises the farmer to stay in the countryside and protect the environment.

So what kind of person do I want to become? Someone with integrity. And if I’m lucky, part of a community of people with integrity.