At this moment, I am sitting in a dormitory somewhere in the Banan industrial district, staring at a fingerprint-covered laptop, trying to think of anything from this difficult year that still makes me reluctant to let go.

As usual, when I write this kind of half-coherent year-end summary, I put on headphones and loop a song that can make me feel either sentimental or excited. This year, what I have kept listening to is still Li Zhi’s unplugged version of “Rehe” from his 2018 New Year’s Eve concert. It is odd: the song is called “Rehe,” but it is really about Nanjing. Just as when I was in Shanghai, I passed Shunyi Road every day but never once went to Beijing.

I do not know when Nanjing became a synonym for “hometown” to me. Perhaps it is because every time I went home for a holiday, I first flew to Nanjing Lukou Airport and then took a train back to Wuhu. Perhaps it is because whenever I introduced my hometown to someone, I would unconsciously say, “My hometown is Wuhu, Anhui, right next to Nanjing.” Or perhaps it is because whenever I mention “China,” I think of Nanjing.

No one who did not graduate the same year as me can really know how hard it was to find a job in China after Covid. I once badly wanted to settle in Shanghai, but the brutal job search left me so heartbroken that when I boarded the plane to Shenzhen, I felt no attachment at all and did not look back. Of course, I have no particular opinion about the stereotypical “Shanghainese,” and I do not think Shanghai is especially hard to integrate into. I simply feel that maybe a place like Shenzhen, with so little tradition, is better suited for my survival. After all, I dislike history and hate tradition.

Grandall is a good law firm, because it took me in when I was most helpless and gave me a platform good enough to hone my skills. I had wanted wholeheartedly to do litigation, but by a twist of fate I stepped onto the path of non-litigation legal work. If I give up the ideal of helping the poor and the wronged, and think only of living a decent life, then law is just a craft for making a living. So I gave up illusions long ago. From the moment I arrived in this cultural desert in the south, backpack on my shoulders and suitcase in hand, youth had already gone with the wind.

One year ago today, I had a fever of 40 degrees and was shivering at a Xie Chunhua concert. At the same time, Li Wenliang sent the WeChat message that would enter human history. Then the whistle sounded, and the whole world changed. I vaguely remember that the theme of Xie Chunhua’s concert was “2020, please be kinder to me.” Well, it was fairly kind to me after all. At least in its final two months, my life showed a small turn for the better.

Late at night, I often curse in my heart the fathers who left our generation such a mess. This country has placed so many burdens on its “successors” that, even without abortion or sterilization, the number of newborns is falling year by year. That may hurt Durex’s share price. But maybe that is fine. I have never liked monopoly capital, if Durex counts as a monopoly. Still, what happens next? I cannot see a way out. Perhaps for an individual, escaping Sodom is the better plan. Unfortunately, Covid arrived just then and cut in half the last false friendly tie between countries.

Tomorrow, I will leave Banan, ride the light rail for two hours to Yubei, and fly home. Of course, Wuhu has no airport. My destination is still Nanjing. But for Nanjing, my hometown lies behind me, by the riverbank, in Quanjiao County, Anhui.

December 31, 2020, Banan, Chongqing