Wandering Through Change

We met Ms. Zhang in Zhongshan Park, nestled within the Changning District. She paused in Shanghai on a business trip, taking a break from her overwhelming workload to wander through this sacred green oasis — a quiet refuge amid the restless pulse of the megacity. Against the backdrop of swaying trees and quiet ponds, her solitary figure suggested a moment of reflection, a rare reprieve from her otherwise fast-paced lifestyle while staying in Shanghai.

Ms.Zhang contemplating under an ancient tree in Zhongshan Park

Ms. Zhang hails from Shenyang, where she works as a finance clerk. As she traversed Shanghai, she expressed her deep amazement at the city’s extensively developed infrastructure. Towering skyscrapers, seamless public transportation networks, and the presence of digital technology left a profound impression on her. She remarked on how Shanghai’s advancements in automation and conveniences have redefined urban life.

When asked why she entered the finance field, Ms. Zhang explained that she had majored in finance-related areas during her university years, a decision that once aligned well with societal needs. However, she suddenly closed her eyes, her face reflecting deep sadness that words could hardly capture. She subsequently sighed, revealing a sense of resignation: as high technology continues to transform industries, many traditional finance clerk responsibilities are being automated. Consequently, fewer people are needed in her position.

“Jobs that were originally done by twenty people now only require ten or so.”

This sentence seemed to mimic the current society, where job replacements have become the norm.

Later, she shared her other interests with us. Aside from the everyday workload, she is also a fan of Japanese cartoons, especially Detective Conan. I noticed the smile that lingered on her face upon mentioning the cartoon; it seemed to enlighten her otherwise undeniably dull life, where she transits from her home to the workplace every day.

Toward the end of our conversation, Ms. Zhang offered a piece of advice rooted in her own experiences: 好好读书 — "Study hard." She emphasized that studying diligently in high school and attending a good college opens the doors to knowledge and opportunity, and that investing in one’s education remains a timeless strategy in an increasingly volatile world. Among her advice, I could sense a tinge of regret; she felt like she could have done better. The melancholic voice in this part shook me a bit, and I tried to comfort her with my smile.

She smiled back.

Yet, while her advice carries truth to a certain extent, it also invites deeper reflection. “I should study hard” might become the easiest way to reflect on one’s unsatisfied life; however, is that the sole reason?

Sometimes, people are afraid of delving into the deeper layers, frightened by the hurt it would cause. A lot of outside environmental factors and hidden truths should never be underestimated; some people might have more opportunities than others. Lives are never equal for everyone.

In addition, from a modern societal perspective, in an age where artificial intelligence, entrepreneurship, and creative industries increasingly redefine success, “study hard” may no longer be the sole or most effective pathway to personal advancement. Skills such as adaptability, critical thinking, emotional intelligence, and innovation are equally crucial. Indeed, a forward-looking perspective suggests that lifelong learning — embracing both formal education and experiential growth — will likely become the new standard for thriving in the future.

Ms. Zhang’s story, tinged with both awe and apprehension, thus serves not only as a personal narrative but as a mirror to the broader societal transformation unfolding around us.

There is also one more question to consider: what is a “satisfied lifestyle”? What is “success”? Success means something different to everyone, yet people’s will to want more happens naturally, uncontrollably. Often, everything’s presence might have a reason; our current life might actually be our best, chosen by the gods. Cherishing the present, the things we do have, is essential.

In the quiet rustle of Zhongshan Park’s leaves, beneath skies veiled in soft twilight, Ms. Zhang’s story lingers — not as a lament, but as a quiet song of perseverance. Perhaps the pursuit of success is not a straight road, but a winding path carved by both choice and chance. And perhaps, in the stillness between ambition and acceptance, we find the truest form of peace — not in what we lack, but in what we have dared to notice, to feel, and to hold close. In a world forever in motion, the ability to pause, to breathe, and to cherish — this too is a kind of triumph.