李承鹏：2024年度总结
2024年快结束的时候，星相学家们集体跳出来向全世界宣告：冥王星已离开摩羯座，进入水瓶座，这将开启一个20年大运。但一向迷信的中国人没有任何反应，因为困顿的人生，不配拥有星座。正如2023年底，风水家们欣喜若狂宣布国人将交上“离火运”，但一年过去，只有各种断舍离、烧死人的大火，没有一个国人交上好运。
中国人已不信开盲盒的运，只认胎记一样的命。有一天，杭州一个外卖员睡在路边电瓶车上，睡得很久，人们上去喊他，才发现他过劳死了。骆驼祥子想用勤劳来改运，却死于路边，这才是他改不了的命。有一天，一名重病青年被送到医院后已经没救了，医生问他住哪儿，家人呢。青年说：别，死在明亮的医院，比死在我那地下室好多了，也别通知我爹来，浪费火车票钱。还有一天，一名患儿的母亲找到慈善组织求助，但慈善机构负责人逼着这位母亲陪睡，才允以救济。
这一年，流行不生孩子，却流行开车撞学生，流行企业家被“远洋捕捞”，还流行殡仪馆盗取尸体骨头卖给医美做假牙、假鼻梁，这像一个倒霉蛋从出生到死亡的浓缩一天，所以这一年并无新意，只是加剧悲凉版的“出生，活着，死亡”。
据说中国新生儿出生率，已低于抗战时期了，也许生活压力比敌人炮火更残忍……产院的谭姐告诉我：现在入院的孕妇少了很多，过去托熟人塞红包才能抢到床位，现在搞反了，产院要拉生意甚至推出优惠政策“生小孩，送婴儿车”，可业务还是一路下滑，没人敢生呢……她又说，产院为了调整经营结构，把一楼租给火锅店了。
《昆虫记》作者法布尔告诉我们，像蜜蜂、蚂蚁这样的昆虫，如果繁殖率忽然明显降低，意味着会爆发瘟疫、洪水、食物紧缺甚至战争。当然，法布尔研究的是腐朽堕落的资本主义昆虫，社会主义昆虫觉悟就高了很多，昆虫们一定会跟“性萧条”“最后一代”等不良风气作顽强斗争，生活再难，也应该井喷似生出更多小昆虫、小小昆虫。
虽然不便学习前苏联“月经警察”定期检查谁逃避为国家生孩子了，但我国专家谆谆教导“女大学生们该明白，毕业后生孩子是你们应担起的责任”。这就是《黑客帝国》原理，没有足够的人肉电池，国家靠什么发电呢。虽然生活艰难，但可以看看这些感人的官方新闻：孕妇背着孩子外出打工彰显母爱；父亲拉着脑瘫儿送外卖，坚守着男人职责；九旬老太为养活六旬的瘫痪儿子上街摆摊，体现中华老人的顽强坚韧……但凡祖上没做过三代以上的太监，都不能把没人性写得这般水灵灵颂圣，而下面评论全是“加油，好感动”，那一排排双掌合什的人肉电池，配得上给它们的苦难续航。
这一年，好多学校门口新增了一排排防撞石墩，那些“原子化叛乱者”开着车呼啸而来，他们是人格异化后长大的孩子，自己失去希望，就要毁灭别人的希望。这一年流行当街杀人，泰安校车冲撞学生11死，上海松江商场砍人3死，湖北孝感小悟乡杀人事件造成8死，广西防城随机杀人5死……有人说开启了献忠模式，别吹牛逼，张献忠不仅成建制消灭了官军，对平民也挺好：攻陷凤阳城后，他杀掉知府，把胜利品和府库里粮食分给贫苦农民；攻下长沙，他宣布免征三年税粮；攻下襄阳，他立马分十万两饷银赈济饥民。攻下衢州，一路下来，张献忠部队纪律严明，深得百姓拥护，清人刘献廷记载“余闻张献忠来衡州，不戮一人，以问娄圣公，则果然也”。当地百姓竟纷纷向张献忠报告官军动向，亲自充当向导，可见得民心到了什么程度。
进入四川张献忠也第一时间宣布对百姓“免三年租赋”，为免劫掠，严禁“擅取本土妇女为妻”，违者正法。至于他后来人格分裂反人类，那是后话。我理解“献忠”只是借用某种语境，但严肃叙事时，你会发现当下无差别杀人者配不上“献忠”。
无锡工艺学院的徐加金因被学校剥削，高喊完“人民万岁、无产阶级万岁”后，不去捅院长，却躲草丛后杀掉8名无产阶级，那些女生流了满地的血，每一滴也都浸透父母的艰辛……前些年还有一个郑民生，因为失业失恋，某天清晨就跑到南平实验小学门口，搂过孩子疯狂砍，边砍边骂“他们不让我活，我也不让你们活”，他用55秒边骂边砍，砍死了8名伤17名。这些孩子最大的12岁、最小才6岁，你他妈失业失恋，关小孩子什么事。
某些国人有两个不好的心理代入：一，只要看到权贵对外耍流氓，就觉得给他长了威风；二，看到恐怖分子当街杀人，就觉得在为他复仇。得多自作多情，才会觉得端王载漪弄了一堆姨妈巾对着外国使馆比划是给你脸上贴美容面膜，脑回路填充多少猪下水，才认为义和团满北京杀人，能顺手帮你要回黄包车。
本应该去追寻到底是什么力量让这些人异化成畜牲，却跑去查“五失人员”，引入“枫桥经验”。终于，这一天街头大大方方立起一个新仪器：群众情绪稳定测试仪。如果情绪不稳，是不是像飞越疯人院那样当场阉割掉小脑。而根源在哪儿，你看看这组新闻对比：
意大利小伙安德烈生病了，在海南医院只花了24元人民币就痊愈出院，他专门发了视频感谢中国，“中国真好，感谢中国，我的眼睛很好，我可以看得很清楚”；另一个视频，丈夫陪着身患绝症的妻子去医院拿检查结果，发现无力支付医疗费，趁丈夫去找医生，妻子想都没想，干净利索地翻过医院走廊的窗户跳了下去。
视频到这儿就结束了。我却在想，那个丈夫回来后，会不会选择在医院里杀人……没有软肋的人越来越多了，或者你以为那是软肋，其实抽出来就是一把对准社会的刀。
专家建议：人多的地方不要去……可是，人少的地方也会杀人劫财，呆在家里也会楼塌、燃气爆炸，窝在校园会被捅，坐飞机会碰上东航，坐大巴碰上塌方就把自己搞进48位死亡名单，自驾国产电车一不小心就自燃，倒是省了火葬费……你终于明白，“天下之大竟无我容身之地”是什么意思。
街市横冲直撞满地鲜血的时候，重新推出满血复活的李子柒，那份恬淡宁静，雅致富足，冲淡了真实乡村的凋敝，还让人们在手机里重燃生活的希望。李子柒是残酷生活的对冲基金。
人们谈论过几天“垃圾时间”，也懒得再谈，就静静地看着一场足球赛按水球规则进行吧……时不时也冒出一些惊悚新闻，比如无臂人乘地铁时，工作人员要求其出示证件，证明自己是残疾人。比如北京财政会议说，“要打破老百姓觉得钱存到银行就是自己的观念”。这句话没毛病，你的钱存到银行不见得是自己的，你的遗体存在殡仪馆也不见得是自己的，看看殡仪馆倒卖四千具遗体供医美牟利的新闻吧。被割走太多属于自己的东西，韭菜们却一直坚信死后能住进属于自己的骨灰盒，其实，你以为能住进自己的韭菜盒子，但你很可能被装进别人的假牙套子。
问：“我们活着的目的到底是什么”，答：“就是让你们奔跑在街市加班在工位忙碌在工地时，让社会看上去还有一丝生气”……生活还得继续，裁员大潮中的伪中产忽然发现自己一文不值。最富标志性意义的是：上海人民广场相亲角，以前丈母娘要求未来女婿月薪至少三万起，现在只要求一万，以前房子可有贷款，现在不可以有贷款。上海老阿姨，是这个世界上最灵动的生物。
而官方大力鼓励灵活就业，最好一天打三份工，人民日报登出文章：禁止渲染底层生存挣扎。这一天，驻马店七旬大爷卖菜为脑梗老伴挣医药费，罚5.5万，告到法院却被判败诉，瘫倒在地痛哭：我才卖12块钱的菜，就被罚五万五。另一晚，另一个大爷冻死在路边摊，手指都冻掉了一根。而美丽城市的道路两旁，迎宾小姐般的大树穿着形象工程鲜艳的毛衣御冬。
此时，孟晚舟正在大学昂首发表演讲“在你们仰望星空的同时，双手沾灰，两脚沾泥”，她不知道，大爷的脸和断指真是沾着灰和泥。
维稳仍那么优秀，北京昌平迅速拆除李自成率起义军进城的雕像，在每条大街都有失业人口的时节，可不能让某个失意人抬头就找到了人生偶像……其实不必拆，国人忍受力是地球所有物种中最卓越的，一个网友精彩评论：非洲大草原上，动物也不是每天都这么长时间去觅食，放眼整个动物世界，都没见过像咱这族群一样每天外出觅食十几个小时的。
只有曝出众多品牌的卫生巾有毒，女人们抗议过一阵。各城拟推出房屋养老金计划时，男人们抗议过一阵。油罐车混装食用油/煤油时，男男女女又抗议过一阵，但不一会儿，日清油仓被一伙人哄抢了，人们清楚知道，这时候再也不能反日、怕日货有核辐射了。
萧条期的规定动作“反日”，在这一年变剧烈了，有一天，一个爱国者杀死了苏州日校的中国籍校车员；九一八当天，另一个爱国者又杀死深圳一个中日混血孩子。加上铁头撒尿，抗日题材神剧已从横店直奔线下。性子暴躁的重庆人民并不敢打做假气表数据的燃气公司高管，却敢推搡在江边穿和服拍照的两位姑娘。一方面这是“他们精准知道什么人惹得起，什么人惹不起”，另一方面，我觉得这族群几千年文化里有一种奇怪的表忠基因，他明知道皇城里根本看不见这份表忠，但遥遥地表达出了忠心，就可以对冲掉生活给他造成的屈辱，对冲之下就酸碱平衡了，满面红光幻觉自己也成了社会主流。心理学家该总结一个“遥忠现象”了。
可一但上面通知：日本海鲜可以吃了，可以暂时不恨日本了。他们便火速冲出去买几条秋刀鱼，喝两壶清酒，恨日本恨得眼睛发红，也是会用日本眼药水的。至于什么时候重新恨日本，请等待另行通知……
许子东讲过一个故事：有一天，大队支书紧急如开全村大会，凝重通知村民们，尼克松要访华了。世上最大敌人访华？！村民们惊得沉默了。大队支书是个有觉悟的人，沉沉地说：但这次，我们决定不杀他。群众们热烈鼓掌。
那个精神病时代又回来了。说起精神病，云南那个冲上台揭露学校不修缮破旧学生宿舍却修建安娜草堂的学生，被精神病了。控告辅警猥亵的李某雪，两度被精神病。一个上访户被送进精神病院后，帮他喊冤的老母亲也送进去了……整个国家就是的一个精神病院，不配合的就是精神病。
这一年，最富有精神病气质的新单位现身，“警税合成作战中心”，这种震撼感，让上市公司老板们每天早上起床照镜子都觉得自己都像罪犯，心算着刑期。可能帽子叔叔嫌这税那税属于文明世界用语，太他妈绕了，开启了更直接有力的远洋捕捞，从此省跑到彼省，把企业家蒙上脑袋塞进车就带走。雷军曾经的手下开发了一款德扑游戏，就这么被绑走，死了。而这故事并不新，1953年到1956年，全国开始倒查税，也就是著名的“三反五反”，很多老板没钱交税，于是被抓或自杀。没有新的历史，你自己看着办吧。
《让子弹飞》里收了99年的税，葛优说：你收谁的钱，穷鬼的钱吗，穷鬼哪有钱。姜文：要收就收富人的钱。他俩太肤浅，什么穷穷富富的，除了远洋捕捞近海捕捞，2024年发行了五十年超长期国债。想一想，那都是2074年了，听说2050年人类实现永生，债不债的也无所谓，人类也已实现大同，联想新泽西上空连续出现奇异飞行器，以后春晚都有外星人表演歌曲大串烧，主持人煽情念着“驻防在土卫六的蜥蜴人边防战士用量子手机发来新春贺电……”
回到主题，这一年，祖国的科技要么具有泥人张风采，手搓五纳米芯片，要么是玄学量子计算机，看，释永信大师视察了火箭发射基地，用少林易筋经为火箭开光。别怕马斯克和黄仁勋，我国自有自己的核心技术，朱韵和说过一个故事：当年为了提升农业生产力，湖南应城县办起了化肥厂，村干部一声令下，把附近村民家里所有能拿出来的锅都集中在一起，摆在路边，让群众们送来尿水并倒入二百多口大锅里，同时点火，熬制尿素。那场面蔚为大观，味道飘至县城，霸气之极，空中传来冯导那句“还有谁……”
对了，这一年，房价腰斩的深圳人骄傲于香港的衰落，对港人纷纷来深圳买菜感到自豪。可是搞没了世界第三金融中心的东方明珠，沾沾自喜于多建了一个菜市场……这思路，够泥腿的。好在这一年诺贝尔经济奖获得者下了一场观念的及时雨：是生产关系决定生产力，而不是生产力决定生产关系，摆在国家面前有两条路，模仿制度还是模仿技术，前者损害利益集团，后者一定会碰上制度的坚墙。可细一想，一百多年前的大清，郭嵩焘早说过类似的话：学技术只需三五十年，但需要三百年才走得出秦汉以来的积病。
人们忽视了一件小事，2024年2月18日，湖南开展了一场“解放思想大讨论”，最后无疾而终了。明白人说道：“如何在统一思想的前提下解放思想，如何在不增加收入的情况下促进消费，如何在抗日反美的前提下提升外贸，如何在远洋捕捞的情况下提升企业家信心，如何在高房价低收入的前提下提升生育率。”
1867年，曾国藩和赵烈文在密室聊天，聊到乞丐成群，聊到到处打砸抢，聊到各种怪象……赵：这是抽心的烂掉了，大清灭亡不超过五十年。曾：我不愿见大清垮掉的样子，唯求一死。几年后，他果真就死了。当臣子难，当忠臣更难，当想干点正事的忠臣最难，不知曾说“长江黄河不会倒流”的那位，死前知不知道这段历史。
年尾的时候出现两个奇怪现象：一是被视为汉奸行为的圣诞活动突然放开，上级通知“圣诞树可以高点，亮点”，再就是人民日报和环球时报联合搞起“中美友好合作故事”征文活动。看，上级又来另行通知了，有事钟无艳，无事夏迎春，但晚了，没信心了……富人加大力度润出去。
这一年，人们在每一个消费降级的饭局，没有前途的商业会谈，没有性生活的床头，都探讨着未来的样子……《乌合之众》写过：一个国家为其青年提供的教育，可以让我们看到这个国家未来的样子。当孟加拉青年上街抗议，韩国青年上街阻止总统戒严，中国大学生排了二十公里长队骑车去开封吃灌汤包，竟也引得我们这些自由派群情振奋，觉得青年可贵，未来有救。
大家忘了这些被高浓度洗涤精反复清洗过的年轻大脑，底色和上一代上二代没什么不同，脑回路里只写着四个大字：“标准答案”。每一年都毕业1000多万大学生，密密地走向大街，他们有的穿孔乙己的长衫，有的抗日，有的怀揣利刃，有的坚信牛顿抄了《永乐大典》……这，就是未来。对了，浩浩荡荡的青年中，陕西一名法学硕士偷偷把寺庙功德箱二维码换成自己的，坐收一段时间的德功钱后，被抓了。这是唯一有喜感的事。
不要相信青年救国，别以为00后和我们有什么不一样的，他们很快就不骑单车去吃灌汤包，而是骑电瓶车满大街抢单，就像开头那个中年一样猝死在路边。再老点，在某个空地跳着广场舞时，被一辆报复社会的车子撞飞。一个网友传来一段凤姐早年的采访：凤姐很小的时候就知道，她是农民，她生的孩子也一定是农民，再下一代还是农民，这个命是改不了的……而明白这个命时，凤姐才九岁，还没来初潮的凤姐就明白的道理，就读于985、211自以为精英的学子们永远也不会明白。当然，一定还是会出现勇于追求自由的青年，他（她）追逐年轻时的梦想，向前奔跑、奔跑，哪怕粉身碎骨……终于还是站住了，因为他会发现，现实生活是一堵望不到头的高墙或者莫乌比斯之环，永远没有尽头的。
《1984》的结尾：他再也不会跑了，也不会叫喊了。他又回到了仁爱部，所有的罪行都得到了党的宽恕，他的灵魂洁白如雪。
我们的2024年，像一朵卑微的雪花嗖地在脸上融化，快得甚至没感到一丝凉意。
李承鹏 2024年12月29日 于东京
Li Chengpeng: 2024 Year in Review
Translated by ChatGPT
As 2024 was drawing to a close, astrologers worldwide declared in unison: Pluto has left Capricorn and entered Aquarius, marking the start of a 20-year cycle of prosperity. However, the notoriously superstitious Chinese people had no response. After all, a life of hardship doesn’t deserve zodiac signs. Just like at the end of 2023, when feng shui masters enthusiastically proclaimed that the Chinese people were entering a “Li Fire Luck” phase. But a year later, there were only relentless separations, devastating losses, and fires that burned people to death. Not a single Chinese person found good fortune.
Chinese people no longer believe in the luck of "blind boxes"; they only recognize the fate they’re born with, as indelible as a birthmark. One day, a delivery worker in Hangzhou was found sleeping on his electric scooter by the roadside. He had been sleeping for a long time. When people tried to wake him, they discovered he had died from overwork. Camel Xiangzi wanted to change his fate through hard work but died by the roadside instead—this is a fate that cannot be changed.
On another day, a terminally ill young man was rushed to the hospital but was beyond saving. When the doctor asked where he lived and about his family, the young man said, “Don’t. Dying in a bright hospital is better than dying in my basement. Don’t waste the train fare to bring my father here.”
Yet another day, a mother seeking help for her sick child approached a charity organization, only to find the person in charge demanding that she sleep with him in exchange for aid.
This year, many schools installed rows of anti-ramming bollards at their gates. The so-called “atomized rebels” roared onto the scene in cars, seeking to destroy the hope of others because they had none of their own. This year, acts of random violence became common: a school bus was rammed in Tai’an, killing 11 students; a mass stabbing occurred in a Shanghai shopping mall, leaving 3 dead; a murder spree in Xiaowu Township, Hubei claimed 8 lives; and random killings in Fangchenggang, Guangxi took 5 lives. Some call this the “Zhang Xianzhong mode,” but that comparison flatters today’s killers too much. Zhang Xianzhong not only defeated government troops but also showed compassion for civilians. After taking Fengyang, he killed the governor but distributed grain from the granaries to the poor. In Changsha, he abolished taxes for three years. In Xiangyang, he gave out 100,000 taels of silver to relieve famine. His troops were so disciplined that they won the hearts of the people, who even guided him against government forces.
In Sichuan, Zhang Xianzhong immediately declared a three-year tax exemption for the people. To prevent plundering, he strictly forbade his soldiers from taking local women as wives, with violators punished by death. His later descent into madness and atrocities was another matter. While invoking Zhang Xianzhong’s name may fit certain contexts, today’s indiscriminate killers pale in comparison to him when viewed through a more serious lens.
Take Xu Jiajin from Wuxi Arts and Crafts Vocational College, for example. Exploited by his school, Xu shouted, “Long live the people! Long live the proletariat!” before hiding in the bushes and murdering 8 working-class women—ordinary proletarians, just like himself. Years ago, another man, Zheng Minsheng, frustrated by unemployment and a failed relationship, went to the gates of an elementary school in Nanping early one morning. He grabbed random children and began stabbing them, killing 8 and injuring 17 in just 55 seconds. The oldest victim was 12, the youngest only 6. Zheng screamed, “If I can’t live, neither can you!” But what did these children have to do with his misfortunes?
Some Chinese people have two troubling tendencies: First, they feel pride when those in power bully others on the international stage, mistaking it as a personal victory. Second, they mistakenly see acts of terror as revenge on their behalf. How deluded must one be to think that Prince Zaiyi waving bloody rags outside foreign embassies during the Boxer Rebellion was a triumph, or that killing random civilians avenged the hardships of ordinary people?
Instead of investigating the root causes that turn people into monsters, the authorities focus on identifying “unstable individuals” and promote “Fengqiao Experience” (community-level control measures). Eventually, public squares saw the installation of new “public sentiment stability testing machines.” If someone’s mood is deemed unstable, will they be lobotomized on the spot, like in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest? The real issues remain unaddressed. Instead, consider this stark contrast in news stories:
An Italian man named Andrea fell ill in Hainan and was cured for just 24 yuan. He made a video expressing gratitude, saying, “China is amazing. Thank you, China! My eyes are clear again.” Meanwhile, a Chinese woman diagnosed with a terminal illness jumped out of a hospital window after discovering she couldn’t afford the medical expenses. The video ended there, but I couldn’t stop wondering: When her husband returned, would he have chosen to kill someone in the hospital?
More and more people seem to have no vulnerabilities left—or what you think are vulnerabilities are, in fact, knives pointed at society.
Experts advise: “Avoid crowded places.” But sparsely populated places are no safer—robberies and murders still happen there. Staying at home doesn’t guarantee safety either; your building might collapse, your gas might explode, or you might get stabbed in a school dormitory. Even flying isn’t safe—you might end up on an ill-fated Eastern Airlines flight. Traveling by bus could see you buried in a landslide, like the 48 victims on a single ill-fated day. Driving a domestic electric vehicle might lead to spontaneous combustion, though at least it would save on cremation fees. Slowly, you begin to understand the phrase: “There’s no place for me in this vast world.”
As the streets run with chaos and blood, the online world reintroduces Li Ziqi, whose idyllic rural lifestyle videos offer a peaceful counterpoint. Her serene, elegant portrayal of country life masks the true desolation of rural China and rekindles a fleeting hope in people’s hearts. Li Ziqi is the counter-fund to harsh reality.
People occasionally talk about the “garbage time” we live in, but they don’t linger on the topic for long. Instead, they watch a rigged football match played with water polo rules. Now and then, shocking headlines appear: a man without arms was asked to produce a certificate proving his disability while taking the subway. Or, Beijing’s finance committee declared, “We need to break the public’s belief that money deposited in banks is their own.” This statement isn’t wrong—your money in the bank may not be yours, just like your body in a funeral home may not be yours. Consider the scandal of 4,000 corpses being stolen from funeral homes and sold for cosmetic surgery purposes. After losing so much that belonged to them in life, the Chinese people still cling to the belief that their ashes will rest in peace in their own urns. But in reality, you might not end up in a proper urn—you might become part of someone else’s fake dental implant.
When someone asks, “What’s the purpose of our lives?” the answer might be: “To keep running on the streets, working overtime at desks, and toiling at construction sites so that society appears to have some semblance of vitality.” Life goes on. The pseudo-middle class, caught in a wave of layoffs, suddenly realizes they’re worth nothing. A particularly symbolic sign of the times is this: At Shanghai’s famous People’s Park marriage market, where parents traditionally matchmake their children, the standards have dropped. Once, prospective mothers-in-law demanded future sons-in-law earn at least 30,000 yuan per month. Now, 10,000 will suffice. Owning a home outright used to be a must; now, a home with a mortgage is acceptable. Shanghai’s aunties are the most adaptive creatures on Earth.
The government has been vigorously promoting “flexible employment,” encouraging people to take on three jobs a day. The People’s Daily even published an article forbidding the portrayal of struggles at the bottom of society. In Zhumadian, a 70-year-old man selling vegetables to pay for his paralyzed wife’s medical bills was fined 55,000 yuan. When he appealed to the court, he lost. He collapsed on the ground and cried out: “I sold just 12 yuan worth of vegetables, and they fined me 55,000!” On another night, another elderly man froze to death at his roadside stall. One of his fingers had even broken off from the cold. Meanwhile, the trees lining the streets of a beautiful city were dressed in bright “clothing projects,” colorful sweaters meant to protect them from winter’s chill.
At this moment, Meng Wanzhou was giving a proud speech at a university: “While gazing at the stars, we must let our hands touch the dirt and our feet step into the mud.” She didn’t realize that the elderly man’s broken finger and frozen face were already covered in dirt and mud.
Maintaining stability remains a top priority. In Beijing’s Changping District, authorities quickly dismantled a statue commemorating Li Zicheng’s entry into the city during his rebellion. At a time when unemployment is rampant on every street, it wouldn’t do for disillusioned individuals to look up and find a historical role model in a rebellious figure like Li. But honestly, there’s no need to tear it down. The resilience of the Chinese people is unmatched on Earth. One online comment summarized it aptly: “Even animals on the African savannah don’t spend as many hours foraging every day as we do. Across the entire animal kingdom, no species spends as much time toiling for survival as we do.”
Only when toxic chemicals were found in multiple brands of sanitary pads did women protest for a brief moment. Men protested when plans to monetize public housing pensions were announced. When it was revealed that cooking oil had been mixed with kerosene in some places, both men and women protested. But soon after, people raided an oil warehouse belonging to a Japanese company. At this point, it was clear: no one dared boycott Japanese goods for fear of nuclear contamination—they needed every drop of oil to survive.
The standard practice during an economic downturn, the “anti-Japanese campaign,” became especially intense this year. One day, a “patriot” killed the Chinese driver of a school bus at a Japanese school in Suzhou. On September 18, another “patriot” killed a mixed-race Chinese-Japanese child in Shenzhen. Meanwhile, “anti-Japanese” TV dramas, once confined to Hengdian’s sets, had spilled into real life. People in Chongqing, known for their fiery temperaments, dared not confront the gas company executives who falsified data on residential meters. Instead, they shoved two girls wearing kimonos at a riverside photo shoot. On one hand, they demonstrated an uncanny ability to differentiate between who could be provoked and who couldn’t. On the other hand, this behavior reflects a deep-rooted cultural tendency toward performative loyalty. They knew the capital couldn’t see this display of loyalty, but performing it nonetheless seemed to soothe the humiliation of daily life. It’s a psychological coping mechanism, and perhaps psychologists should name it the “remote loyalty phenomenon.”
Yet, as soon as authorities announced that Japanese seafood was safe to eat, all hostility toward Japan evaporated. People quickly rushed to buy autumn saury and sake. Their hatred of Japan, once fiery, was replaced with eager consumption of Japanese products. When it’s time to hate Japan again, they will simply wait for the next notice.
Xu Zidong once told a story: One day, a village leader urgently convened a meeting to announce that U.S. President Nixon would visit China. The villagers were stunned into silence—wasn’t the United States the greatest enemy? The leader, fully aware of the significance, gravely declared, “This time, we’ve decided not to kill him.” The villagers erupted into applause.
That era of madness has returned. Speaking of madness, a student in Yunnan stormed the stage during an event to reveal that the school had built a lavish “Anna’s Cottage” while neglecting its decrepit student dormitories. He was promptly sent to a psychiatric hospital. Li Mouxue, who accused an auxiliary police officer of molestation, was sent to a psychiatric hospital twice. An elderly petitioner was institutionalized for raising grievances, and when her son advocated on her behalf, he too was committed. This entire country is one big psychiatric hospital, and those who don’t comply are labeled insane.
This year, a new institution with the most "psychotic" aura was established: the "Police-Tax Combined Operations Center." Its very existence sends chills down the spines of business owners, who now wake up every morning, look in the mirror, and feel like criminals, mentally calculating how long their “sentence” might be. Perhaps the authorities felt that traditional taxes were too “civilized” and complicated, so they began a more direct approach known as “distant fishing”—extraditing business owners from one province to another, blindfolding them, stuffing them into cars, and taking them away. Lei Jun’s former colleague, who developed a poker app, was among the victims. He was abducted and died under mysterious circumstances.
This isn’t a new story. Between 1953 and 1956, during the “Three-Anti and Five-Anti” campaigns, tax audits led countless entrepreneurs to prison or suicide when they couldn’t pay up. There’s nothing new in history—you can figure it out for yourself.
In Let the Bullets Fly, a character quips about a 99-year tax levy: “Who are you going to tax? The poor? The poor don’t have money.” The response: “If we’re taxing, we’ll tax the rich.” How naive. In addition to “distant fishing” and “nearby fishing,” 2024 saw the issuance of 50-year ultra-long-term bonds. Imagine that: it’ll be 2074 before these bonds mature. By then, humanity may have achieved immortality, rendering debt irrelevant. Perhaps the world will have reached a utopian state, complete with extraterrestrials performing at the Chinese New Year Gala. The host might even read a heartfelt message: “The lizard-people border guards stationed on Titan’s sixth moon have sent quantum New Year greetings.”
Back to reality: This year, China’s technological feats were either laughably crude—like hand-making five-nanometer chips—or mystically exaggerated, as with quantum computing. Look at this: Master Shi Yongxin of Shaolin Temple inspecting a rocket launch site, where he performed a Buddhist blessing using the Shaolin "Yijinjing" technique to ensure the rocket’s success. No need to fear Elon Musk or Jensen Huang; China has its unique approach to core technology. Here’s an old story from Zhu Yunhe: In the past, to increase agricultural productivity, a county in Hunan started a fertilizer plant. The village cadre ordered all residents to bring their pots and pans, which were placed along the roadside. Villagers were also instructed to bring urine to fill over 200 pots. Fires were lit beneath them, and the urine was boiled to extract urea. The scene was spectacular, the stench wafted into the county seat, and the atmosphere reeked of misplaced ambition.
This year, while Shenzhen’s housing prices were halved, its residents took pride in Hong Kong’s decline. They felt smug seeing Hong Kongers coming to Shenzhen to buy groceries. But dismantling the world’s third-largest financial hub, the “Pearl of the Orient,” only to boast about adding another vegetable market—this mindset is embarrassingly provincial. Fortunately, a Nobel laureate in economics brought some clarity this year: it is the relations of production that determine productivity, not the other way around. Faced with a choice between reforming the system or mimicking technology, the former disrupts vested interests, while the latter inevitably hits systemic barriers. But upon reflection, this isn’t new wisdom. Over a century ago, in the late Qing dynasty, diplomat Guo Songtao said something similar: “It takes three to five decades to learn foreign technologies, but it may take 300 years to undo the deeply ingrained flaws of our system.”
One seemingly minor event this year went unnoticed: on February 18, Hunan launched a campaign called “Great Discussions on Liberating Thought.” It fizzled out without results. A clear-headed observer summed it up: “How do you liberate thought while ensuring ideological uniformity? How do you promote consumption without increasing income? How do you expand foreign trade while resisting Japan and America? How do you restore entrepreneurs’ confidence while engaging in distant fishing? How do you raise birth rates under high housing costs and low wages?”
In 1867, Zeng Guofan had a private conversation with Zhao Liewen. They discussed the roving bands of beggars, the widespread looting, and the chaos everywhere. Zhao predicted: “The rot has reached the core; the Qing dynasty won’t last another 50 years.” Zeng replied: “I don’t want to see the Qing’s collapse; I just hope to die first.” A few years later, Zeng did indeed pass away. It’s hard being a courtier, even harder being a loyal one, and hardest of all to be a loyal courtier trying to do some good. One wonders if the current “Yellow River and Yangtze won’t flow backward” loyalist knows this history as they approach their end.
At the end of the year, two peculiar phenomena emerged. First, Christmas, long considered “traitorous,” was suddenly embraced. Authorities announced, “The Christmas trees can be taller and brighter this year.” Second, People’s Daily and Global Times jointly launched a campaign for “Stories of Sino-American Friendship and Cooperation.” Instructions from above had arrived once again. Yet, it was too late. Confidence was gone, and the rich accelerated their efforts to emigrate.
This year, at every downgraded dinner, every futile business meeting, and every sexless bedside, people debated what the future might hold. The Crowd teaches us: the education a nation offers its youth reveals its future. In Bangladesh, youths took to the streets to protest; in South Korea, they marched to prevent martial law. In China, university students biked 20 kilometers to Kaifeng just to eat soup dumplings. Somehow, this inspired optimism among the liberal crowd, who thought, “Youth are precious; there’s still hope.”
People forget that these brains, washed repeatedly with concentrated detergent, bear the same patterns as their parents’ and grandparents’. Their thought processes boil down to four characters: “standard answers.” Every year, over 10 million university graduates flood the streets. Some wear Confucian gowns like Kong Yiji, some engage in anti-Japanese rhetoric, some carry concealed blades, and some believe Isaac Newton plagiarized The Yongle Encyclopedia. This is the future. Oh, and among these youths, a law student in Shaanxi secretly replaced a temple donation QR code with his own and collected “karma funds” for a while before being caught. That was the only amusing story of the year.
Don’t pin your hopes on the youth. Don’t assume the post-2000 generation is different. Before long, they’ll stop biking for soup dumplings and start racing e-bikes for delivery orders—until, like that delivery worker at the beginning, they die by the roadside. A little older, they’ll join a square dance and be struck down by a car seeking vengeance on society.
An old video of Sister Feng surfaced. In it, she said, “When I was very young, I knew I was a peasant. The child I give birth to will also be a peasant, and the next generation after that will still be peasants. This fate can’t be changed.” Feng understood this at age nine, before even reaching puberty. Yet students from China’s elite universities, the so-called “bright minds,” will never grasp this truth. Of course, there will always be young people who bravely pursue freedom. They will chase their dreams, running and running, even at the risk of being shattered. And yet, eventually, they will stop, realizing that reality is a towering wall or a Möbius strip with no end in sight.
The conclusion of 1984: “He loved Big Brother.”
Our 2024 was like a humble snowflake that melted on our faces in an instant—so fast we didn’t even feel the chill.
Li Chengpeng, December 29, 2024, Tokyo