Striving for the Promises We Once Made

Life is truly strange.

Today, I am living the dream I boasted about two years ago. Two years ago, during my first Spring Festival after starting work, the weather was unusually cold. After returning to my northern hometown, I caught a cold on the second day. At the village clinic, I met Asheng, a childhood classmate from elementary school. Asheng’s father, a live-in son-in-law, worked at a Bohai pier as a laborer and rarely returned home. His mother took care of his maternal grandparents alone. This time, Asheng returned because his grandfather’s health had deteriorated severely, and they had given up on treatment. He came to the clinic to settle old medical bills.

Asheng’s grandfather was a well-known figure in the village, famous for his calligraphy and kind nature. We loved visiting his home as children, admiring the walls adorned with his artwork. Under his grandfather’s guidance, Asheng mastered regular script by elementary school. I still remember the farewell message he left in cursive on my shabby notebook in fifth grade: “Our friendship will last forever.” At the time, I laughed at him for overreacting, thinking we’d still be in middle school together. Later, I learned his family had to move due to discrimination against his father as a live-in son-in-law. That farewell turned into a 15-year separation.

Over the years, my mother occasionally mentioned that Asheng’s family faced similar challenges in his father’s hometown. They eventually returned to our village but settled in a rented cottage instead of their original home.

When I met Asheng again, our expressions were calm, as befitting the setting of a clinic. He told me he now lived in Hainan, working in advertising design. After graduating from an arts college, job opportunities were scarce, leading him to settle in Hainan, where he now pursued calligraphy and painting in his free time. I remarked that he had stayed true to his childhood passions. I told him I was involved in agricultural project investment.

He smiled and said, “You’ve realized your dream.” He reminded me of our third-grade essay, “My Dream,” where I had written about becoming a farmer and growing 10-kilogram ears of corn. Our teacher, Mr. Xie Sandu, laughed at me for having such a “humble” aspiration.

I chuckled and said, “Yes, even in high school, I still wanted to be a farmer. When it came time to choose college majors, my parents and teachers wouldn’t let me apply to an agricultural university. Out of spite, I listed Qingyang Agricultural College as my second-to-last choice. To everyone’s surprise, that’s where I ended up.”

At Qingyang, I discovered it was the only university in a small county. It felt more like a high school, surrounded by pear orchards that turned the campus into a snowy paradise during bloom season. As graduation neared, job prospects were grim. Most of my classmates aimed to escape via graduate school exams. While I admired their determination, I genuinely enjoyed working with crops. My major, entomology, was fascinating. Did you know that the grasshoppers we used to catch in the sweet potato fields are called Tettigoniidae? Such an elegant name. Or that the fruit we call ruan zao is scientifically named Diospyros lotus? The more I studied, the more I loved it.

When I heard the class belle was applying to Zhejiang University’s graduate program, I decided to give it a shot too, thinking it might bring us closer. Ironically, she didn’t get in, and I was the only one in our department to make it. That’s how I ended up at Zhejiang University, earning a master’s degree in two years before joining an agricultural investment firm.

But honestly, I started out with a sense of vanity. Even at a prestigious university, agriculture-related jobs were hard to come by. Two years ago, when I graduated, I ended up working as a pesticide salesperson, visiting rural areas daily. To save face, I told people I was in agricultural investment.

Recently, I’ve felt the urge to leave my job. And now, I’ve actually joined a real investment firm.

The boast I made two years ago has come true.

So, should I make an even bigger promise now?