My Little Pony

Laughing, smiling, and a pony doll leaning back on the bench beside them, I met a group of friends who have known each other for decades. Hao and his friends were sitting there, deciding on the place they wanted to visit. Disneyland? Anfu Road? Or a random street block in the inner city? Maybe it’s not about the place they are going to, but the people they are going with.

“She went to Canada during college, and we stayed in Shanghai,” Hao introduced everyone fervently. “We were classmates in primary school, but went to different high schools later on. This is the nineteenth year since we first met.”

“Oh my god! The nineteenth year? Isn't it incredible that we are still in touch?” the girl on the right giggled.

Recalling the 2000s, when they were still kids, memories sprang up in their minds and flashed into my sight. “During my childhood birthday party, both of them came, and we made sushi together. I remember how Hao threw up from food poisoning—it was hilarious,” the girl on the left said in a playful manner, while Hao countered, “Oh my! That was actually really uncomfortable, and I still don’t know the reason why it happened only to me.”

Their primary school years — a dream dipped in innocence — still linger in their memories. In those early days of naivety and boldness, the laughter they shared became the thread that wove their friendship together.“Do you remember the birthday present I gave you every year?” Hao asked the girl on his left.“Barbies? Every time you came over for a playdate, we’d rip their heads off and flush them down the toilet. Gross.”

“That was harsh,” the girl on the right said. “I miss that for years and years. If there were a time machine, we’d all want to go back to childhood — when pressure meant just homework, exams, and annoying teachers.”

Along with heartfelt nostalgia, the three recalled the stress after entering a career. Demanding bosses, heavy workloads, skyrocketing rents — trivial botherings flooded in without a single warning signal. The pressure of the adult world came too quickly for one to react. But over time, their worries shifted toward life’s bigger questions — “What’s my dream? What should I do now?”

The relationship between this trio has also been supported by their mutual lifelong passion — art. “We both chose art as our major. I studied sculpture, which has opened doors to fields like 3D modeling and game design — though, as an artist, you have to be prepared for the occasional lean times,” he joked. His hands-on, creative approach aligns perfectly with his partner’s childhood fascination with origami, crafts, and toys.“Look at this pony; it’s my favorite design in the studio, and it resembles the look of her pet pony.” Hao points at the girl on the right.

The three friends, holding the Pony design in their hands

“Exactly! In fact, it’s a secret agreement between us,” the girl laughed. “I loved the entire creative process, from sketching designs to seeing them come to life.” What started as a professional pursuit quickly became a source of connection, as she met like-minded friends along the way.“There’s something special about collaborating with people who share the same passion,” she reflected.

“Do you still remember art class in primary school?” They recalled how they always loved folding paper, making handicrafts, and playing with toys — “it’s what drew us to art in the first place.” Together, they embrace the challenges and joys of turning imagination into tangible creations.

Art is completely different from the art in our dreams. “Anxiety, fulfillment, and joy,” she said with a knowing laugh. Juggling a full-time job, graduate studies, a side gig, and overseeing art installations for pop-up shops, the pressure sometimes felt overwhelming.“There are days when everything piles up, and anxiety creeps in,” she admits. Yet, the struggles make the victories sweeter — each finished project bringing a surge of hard-won fulfillment. And woven between the stress and triumph are moments of pure joy.

Time passed. “Same time next month?” Hao asked.“Only if we’re still allowed to decapitate Barbies,” the girl on the left deadpanned. The one on the right tossed her head back with a cackle. “Deal — but this time, nobody gets food poisoning.”

Nineteen years haven’t dulled their friendship; instead, they’ve folded into a single moment — to neither the past nor future, but to something more enduring.