The fragrance of osmanthus blossoms in August fills the air. The osmanthus trees in the yard are blooming again. These are your favorite flowers; you said they are the purest, like a jade plate hanging in the sky. I'll never forget those clear autumn nights of my childhood, the sky high and the moon bright, illuminating the yard as if it were daytime. The osmanthus blossoms were in full bloom, their fragrance so enticing that even the bees forgot to go home. After dinner, you would move a small stool to the yard, hold me in your arms, and tell me the story of Chang'e. "Once upon a time, there was a woman named Chang'e. She stole the elixir of immortality…" But I always liked to interrupt halfway through: "Grandma, Chang'e fell in love with Marshal Tianpeng, didn't she? She was even moved by him on TV!" You would always pat my head, saying that Chang'e didn't know about Tianpeng back then, silly child. You continued your story, while I lay listlessly in your arms, slowly falling asleep. Tonight's wind, is it carrying your message of longing for me? Why does the wind carry your scent, and why is your homemade osmanthus wine on the table again? Are you judging the wine with Wu Gang at this moment? Grandma, speaking of Wu Gang, do you know why he couldn't chop down the osmanthus tree? Look, isn't there a child deep in thought under that tree? That's me thinking of you. The autumn wind still blows, and the sweet and delicious mooncakes are on the table, but something is always missing—it's your nagging and whispering! When you were here, I always found you annoying, unaware of how much care you put into me, unaware of how much you loved me. I still remember the first time I left home, you came to the station to see me off. The wind was biting, ruffling your white hair. I told you not to see me off anymore, that it was cold and you should go home early, but you said you were fine and saw me into the station. "Cai'er, it's cold, wear more clothes! Cai'er, if you want Grandma's sausages when you get there, call me! Cai'er..." The train slowly pulled away, but you were alone in the still-dark station, huddled up. I didn't know you had a stomach ailment; you'd been feeling unwell ever since, eating very little, and your health had been declining.

Last year, for the Mid-Autumn Festival, because I was far from home, I couldn't go back for the reunion. An unexpected phone call came in; it was Dad's urgent voice on the other end, saying you were seriously ill and asking if I wanted to come home. I was busy with exams and couldn't get away, so I shook my head and said I'd see in a few days! I never imagined that when the Mid-Autumn Festival moon was bright and dazzling, Grandma, you were gone, gone with Chang'e. I never imagined that the station would be the last time you spoke to me, never imagined that it would be the last time I saw you. When I rushed home, I only arrived at that dark funeral. Your smiling face drifted away with the falling osmanthus petals, leaving only a lonely osmanthus tree, and a lonely child beneath it, waiting for next year, waiting for next year's Mid-Autumn Festival, hoping you could come with Chang'e. This year's Mid-Autumn Festival has arrived again. The moon is full, the osmanthus is fragrant, and I miss you beneath the osmanthus tree.

During his school years, Mo Yan was ridiculed and isolated by his classmates because of his appearance. No one spoke up for him; they all laughed at him.

When he joined the army, no one from the village came to see him off; some even wrote letters to denounce him.

But after Mo Yan won the Nobel Prize in Literature, those who had bullied him immediately changed their tune.

They either tried to curry favor with him or invited him to various events, showering him with flattery.

As he wrote in his novel Sandalwood Death: "Humans are strange creatures. When you cry and whine, few people truly sympathize with you; most just want to laugh.

When you stand up for yourself, they all respect you." Human nature is like that—realistic and cruel.

When you are in a lowly position, you see only the wickedness of people;

When you are in a high position, you see only flattery and sycophancy.

Interpersonal relationships are essentially an exchange of value.

Only by constantly strengthening yourself can you become your own pillar of support and live a fulfilling life.

When you are weak, you attract the most bad people.

There's a classic line: "Why do others dare to do bad things to you? Because you make them feel that they can do bad things to you without paying any price."

Often, your attitude towards others determines how they treat you.

The weaker and more yielding you are, the less others will take you seriously;

The stronger and more confident you are, the more respect and kindness others will show you.

There's an interesting scene in the TV series "I Am Yu Huanshui."

Yu Huanshui is a weak-willed person. In life, he habitually tolerates everything and often suffers cold looks and bullying from others.

At home, his wife looks down on him, and his brother-in-law often ridicules him;

At work, his colleagues bully him, and his salary is inexplicably deducted by his boss;

His upstairs neighbor's weekend renovations disturb his rest, but he doesn't dare to confront them.

Once, Yu Huanshui's friend, Lü Fumeng, borrowed 130,000 yuan from him and hasn't repaid it.

Out of pride, Yu Huanshui didn't ask for the money back.

Later, Yu Huanshui wanted to buy a car for his wife and asked Lü Fumeng for money.

Lü Fumeng initially agreed readily, even telling him to choose a nicer car and that he would cover the rest of the cost.

But when Yu Huanshui finished choosing the car and was ready to pay, he couldn't contact his friend.

After finally finding Lü Fumeng, the latter made various excuses and simply refused to pay back the money.

Annoyed by his persistent questioning, Lü Fumeng bluntly told Yu Huanshui, "130,000 is nothing, I'll pay you back in a minute. I'll pay you back, but it depends on my mood." Yu Huanshui didn't dare to confront him directly and could only let Lü Fumeng continue to drag things out.

Until an unexpected event occurred, things changed.

During a hospital checkup, Yu Huanshui was misdiagnosed with cancer. Believing he didn't have much time left, he decided to give up, no longer cowardly and tolerant, no longer allowing himself to be bullied.

Taking advantage of Lü Fumeng's exhibition, Yu Huanshui stormed onto the site and, in front of many people, loudly berated Lü Fumeng: "I just want the money, right now, with five years' worth of interest!" Lü Fumeng had no choice but to immediately repay Yu Huanshui the principal and interest.

The upstairs neighbor, who was renovating, was also deterred from doing renovations on weekends after Yu Huanshui's outburst.

At his father-in-law's house, Yu Huanshui publicly berated his brother-in-law in front of the whole family, silencing the arrogant young man.

The more experiences one has, the deeper one's understanding of human nature becomes, and the more one realizes: When you are weak, you encounter the most bad people; when you are strong, you are surrounded by good people.

As Yu Hua said, "When we treat the world fiercely, the world suddenly becomes gentle and refined." Unconditional tolerance does not earn respect and understanding, but rather takes advantage and causes harm.

Hold onto your boundaries, learn to stand up for yourself, and others will not dare to bully you.

You are the kind of person you are, and that's the kind of relationships you will have. When you give up meaningless concessions, abandon unprincipled kindness, and stop trying to please others, the whole world will treat you kindly.

Relying on others for everything is a disaster. As the saying goes, "Mountains may crumble, rivers may flow away; temples may collapse, gods may run away." In life, there will inevitably be times when we need to rely on others.

But if you overly depend on others and place all your hopes on them, you will only end up with disappointment and disillusionment.

The short story "My Uncle Jules" is one of Maupassant's masterpieces.

The protagonists, Mr. and Mrs. Philippe, lived a very poor life.

To support their family, Philippe worked diligently, rarely daring to take a day off; they would only buy discounted or sold-off items for their household goods; even when buying clothes for their children, they would haggle with the vendors for the cheapest price.

Just as they were living a life of frugality, a letter shattered everything.

The letter was from Philippe's brother, Jules. In it, he wrote that he had made a fortune overseas and planned to return home to support Philippe's family, ensuring they lived a comfortable life.

Philippe and his wife were overjoyed upon receiving the letter and began to imagine the wonderful life Jules would lead upon his return.

From then on, the couple placed all their hopes on Jules, eagerly awaiting his return.

Philippe stopped working diligently as before, spending his days wandering aimlessly in the city, showing off his brother's letter to everyone he met.

Madame Philippe, on the other hand, became obsessed with socializing among the wives, spending all her time on dressing up and comparing herself to others.

Every Sunday, the Philippe family would go to the harbor to wait for their brother's return. Watching the ships come and go, Philippe would always say, "How happy it would be if my brother Jules were on one of those ships!"

However, during the long wait, Philippe received no news of Jules.

It turned out that Jules had indeed made a small fortune in America, but he had quickly squandered it all.

Jules dared not tell Philippe the truth, and he too was reduced to selling oysters for a living.

Later, while out, Philippe encountered a filthy old man selling oysters. With keen eyes, he recognized the old man as none other than his long-awaited brother, Jules.

At that moment, Philippe's years of hope shattered.

As the writer Zheng Yuanjie said, "Placing your hopes on others means leaving yourself with disappointment. Life will become passive." In this life, we inevitably experience storms.

Always trying to hide under someone else's umbrella will eventually leave you soaked.

Learning to hold your own umbrella allows you to face the storms without fear and move forward steadily.

A person's greatest support is not others, but themselves.

When you stop placing your hopes on others and learn to live independently, you will eventually encounter more beautiful scenery.

Instead of cultivating relationships, cultivate yourself. Zhou Guoping, in his book Happiness is a Skill, says, "People who are keen on socializing often boast of having many friends.

In reality, they know that what dominates social situations is not friendship, but fashion, interests, or boredom." In real life, many people always enjoy socializing, believing that the more people they know, the easier their lives will be.

In fact, the opposite is true. Spending time on meaningless social engagements and networking does nothing to help your life.

Only by distancing yourself from the hustle and bustle of crowds, calming your mind, and focusing your energy on cultivating yourself can you achieve the life you desire.

I once heard a story from the writer Li Shanglong that resonated deeply with me.

In college, Li Shanglong was keen on building connections, joining many clubs and meeting all sorts of people.

Looking at the long list of names in his phone's contact list, Li Shanglong felt he had a wide network.

But the reality was that people in his clubs never proactively contacted him to participate in activities; they only thought of him when they needed to run errands.

Once, Li Shanglong went to see a teacher he knew, bringing a gift, hoping to chat and receive some guidance.

But the teacher completely ignored him, replying only with a cold, "No time."

Li Shanglong suddenly realized that when you have no value, knowing anyone is meaningless.

He began to distance himself from meaningless social interactions, devoting his time to reading, studying, and writing.

Years later, through his own efforts, Li Shanglong became a renowned writer and English teacher.

Those who had never contacted him before started reaching out again, some seeking collaborations, others asking him to introduce them to tutoring their children.

Often, it's better to cultivate yourself than to painstakingly build relationships.

If you're not strong enough, you naturally have no value in others' eyes;

If you are excellent enough, you will naturally attract equally excellent people.

As Huang Bo said in an interview, "Before, I always encountered all sorts of people, all sorts of petty schemes, all sorts of people ignoring me and looking down on me.

But now that I'm famous, everyone around me is a good person, every face beaming with smiles." The world is that realistic; your social value depends on your strength.

Only by learning to manage yourself can you become the master of your destiny and the ferryman of your own life.

Manage your image: pay attention to self-care, dress appropriately, and greet each day in your best condition;

Manage your emotions: maintain a calm mindset, be optimistic, and stay away from people and things that drain you;

Manage your health: eat a balanced diet, exercise regularly, as good health is the foundation of all happiness;

Manage your perspective: continue learning, broaden your horizons, and better understand yourself and the world.

Remember: Don't chase a horse; use the time you would spend chasing to plant grass. When spring arrives, a herd of fine horses will be waiting for you to choose.

Don't invite everyone into your life. When you learn to invest in yourself and enrich yourself, you will naturally have a richer life.

2

Back then, my memory was excellent. I could read a book once at lightning speed, remember all the characters' names, retell the main plot, and even recite entire passages of aphorisms describing love. Now, I can't do that at all. I borrowed Song of Youth from a teacher in the afternoon. Knowing that the sheep would go hungry if I didn't cut hay, I couldn't resist the book's allure. I hid behind a haystack and finished the thick volume of Song of Youth in one afternoon. My body was covered in welts from ants and mosquitoes. When I emerged from behind the haystack, dizzy and disoriented, the sun was already setting. I heard the sheep bleating wildly in the pen, hungry. I felt uneasy, anticipating a scolding or a beating. But when my mother saw my state, she sighed tolerantly, neither scolding nor hitting me, but simply telling me to hurry out and gather some grass to feed the sheep. I dashed out of the yard, overjoyed; I truly felt happy then. My second brother was also a bookworm. He was five years older than me and had far more connections for borrowing books, often managing to borrow those I couldn't. But this guy wouldn't allow me to read the books he borrowed. When he read, I would sneak up behind him like iron filings drawn to a magnet, first watching from afar, craning my neck like a goose drinking water, then unconsciously moving closer. He knew I was behind him, so he would deliberately flip through the pages rapidly, forcing me to read at a snail's pace to keep up. He would quickly get annoyed, close the book, and shove me aside. But as soon as he opened the book, I would be right there beside him again.

3

Once, he borrowed a copy of Dawn and hid it in the pigsty shed. When I went to find the book, I bumped into a hornet's nest on the head. With a loud buzz, dozens of hornets stung my face, causing excruciating pain. But I ignored the pain and focused on reading. As I read, my eyes became so swollen I couldn't keep them open. My head swelled up like a willow branch, and my eyes were reduced to slits.

When my second brother came back and saw my condition, he seemed startled, but he first snatched the book from my hands and hid it somewhere before coming back to discipline me.

He slapped me so hard I almost fell into the pigsty, then said, "Serves you right!" After thinking for a while, perhaps afraid of my mother's scolding, he said, "If you say you accidentally bumped into the hornet's nest while going to the toilet, I'll let you finish reading Dawn."

I happily agreed.

But the next day, when the swelling on my head subsided and I went to ask him for the book back, he immediately denied it. I swore I would never let him read any books I borrowed from him again, but whenever I borrowed a book he hadn't read, he would forcibly snatch it and read it first. Once, I finally managed to borrow a copy of Three Families Lane from a classmate. After returning home, I buried myself in the cowshed piled with straw. Just as I was engrossed in reading, he sneaked in, snatched the book away, and said, "This book is poisonous! Let me read it first and critique it for you!" He stuffed my Three Families Lane into his coat and ran away. I was furious! But I couldn't catch him, and even if I did, I couldn't beat him. I could only jump up and down in the cowshed, cursing him. A few days later, he threw Three Families Lane at me, saying, "Return it quickly! This book is extremely vulgar!" Of course, I wouldn't listen to him. I read Three Families Lane with a bittersweet feeling, captivated and enthralled by the pure love of the young people in the book. The steam and sounds of old Guangzhou seemed to rush towards me, swirling around my ears and nose. Each character was vividly portrayed, as if they were right before my eyes. When I read about Qu Tao being killed by a stray bullet during a protest in Shamian, I lay on the straw and sobbed softly. The sadness and grief I felt were indescribable. I was probably nine years old then. I started school at six and was in third grade. After reading "Three Families Lane," for a long time, I felt lost and couldn't concentrate in class. The image of the beautiful girl Qu Tao kept flashing before my eyes, and my hand unconsciously filled the blank spaces in my Chinese textbook with Qu Tao's name. The class leaders found out, publicly humiliated me, called me a hooligan, and reported me to the homeroom teacher, who criticized me for having unhealthy thoughts. Decades later, on my first trip to Guangzhou, I searched every street and alley for Qu Tao, but I couldn't even find a trace of her. I asked my friends in Guangzhou, "Where did Qu Tao go?" My friend said, "Qu Tao and her friends sleep during the day and only come out at night." Not long after finishing "Three Families Lane," I borrowed a copy of "How the Steel Was Tempered" from a teacher who greatly appreciated me. That evening, my mother was busy cooking at the stove, a small oil lamp hanging on the doorframe, its smoke billowing. Being short, I could only stand on the threshold to read by its dim light. I was so engrossed in the book that I didn't even notice my hair being singed by the lamplight. The captivating first love between Pavel and Tonya, the dirty boiler worker and the forester's daughter in a sailor's uniform, truly haunted my dreams, almost like being lovesick. Years have passed, but those scenes from back then are still vivid in my mind.

From the moment Tonya sincerely apologized to Pavel, the small door of childhood closed, and the door of adolescence suddenly opened. A beautiful, yet regrettable, love story began. I wonder, what if Tonya hadn't apologized to Pavel? What if Tonya had put on airs like a noblewoman and berated the poor boy? Then "How the Steel Was Tempered" wouldn't exist. A noble person is unaware that their own nobility is true nobility; how precious it is for a noble person to apologize to someone lower than themselves for their mistakes. Like Paul, I fell in love with Tonya the moment she apologized. It's too early to call it love, but at least my heart was filled with affection for her, and the barriers of class were quietly crumbling. I read this book more than thirty years ago and haven't touched it since, but everything is still vivid in my mind; I haven't forgotten a single detail. Paul and Tonya eventually parted ways, like cars running on different tracks, each pursuing their own future. When I read this part back then, the feeling in my heart was indescribable. Later, they met again at the road construction site, but a dark wall had been erected between the former lovers. But it can't be said that Paul was wrong; even if Tonya had married Paul, she was destined not to be happy because the difference between the two was simply too great. Paul later fell in love with Rita, a Komsomol cadre. This is love during the revolutionary period. Although it has its touching moments, it lacks the tender and poignant romance of his first love with Tonya. In the end, the utterly unlucky Pavel marries the pale Darya. This marriage is devoid of even a shred of romance. Upon reading this, Pavel's image in my childhood mind became utterly dim. Having finished reading How the Steel Was Tempered, my childhood reading story came to an end.

Botanists, after studying relevant scientific literature, found that the main reason for this is the gradual increase in temperature in the Alps. These plants, adapted to low-temperature environments, have had to "climb" to higher altitudes in search of suitable temperatures. Botanists also found that their vitality is much stronger than before.

This is a very interesting phenomenon. Many plants have a sensitive response to nature and constantly adjust their survival conditions. For example, drought allows plant roots to penetrate deeper into the soil, and plants in windy areas grow more robustly. Fast-growing plants have softer wood, while slow-growing plants have harder wood. Just as with plants, so too with people.

A successful person often endures more suffering than an ordinary person. Few people can achieve success with little effort. Someone once gave a vivid example: God places fame, fortune, status, and success on one side of each person's destiny, and an equal weight of cost on the other. In a person's life, the proportion of favorable and unfavorable circumstances is roughly equal.