Monsters Die When Killed

「July 25, 2014, 10:30 AM. Zhicheng Flower Shop.」

The low buzz of a phone vibrating on the desk instantly jolted the man awake. He had been slumped over the desk, deep in sleep. He squinted, wiping the gunk from the corners of his eyes as he tried to pull his muddled thoughts together, and reached for his phone.

[Mom: Son, that girl from the blind date yesterday seemed to have a pretty good impression of you. She even told her parents you were alright. You should ask her out more, go for a walk or something. You’re not getting any younger...]

"If asking for money and her name on the house deed right off the bat counts as ’a pretty good impression’... then anyone would leave a ’pretty good impression’,"

His brain couldn’t even fully process the message. The man, Chen Zhicheng, was too tired to even muster a bitter smile. He just buried his head in his arms on the counter again, letting his mind go blank, trying his best not to dwell on that feeling of emptiness. But with a careless wave of his hand, he knocked the teacup beside him off the desk. It shattered with a CRASH.

The cloyingly sweet scent of fruit and plants hanging in the air felt a little overwhelming. The sharp sound of shattering porcelain jolted the man fully awake. He lifted his head and stared blankly at the shards of the cup—a cup he had used for five years and grown somewhat attached to. He felt no regret, only a vast emptiness. He couldn’t even summon the will to clean it up.

Chen Zhicheng. Thirty-one years old. Owner of a flower and fruit shop.

An ordinary man who wakes up today, only to wake up again tomorrow.

Then again, you couldn’t call him completely ordinary. After all, most people wouldn’t stubbornly chase a dream like opening a bonsai shop. At least, that’s what the man he used to be had thought. Back then, the Academy graduate, full of bold proclamations, had a heart soaring with visions of a beautiful future: He’d spend his days bursting with energy, tending to his beloved flowers, cultivating the bonsai he was so proud of, and occasionally winning an award at a small competition. Every day would be fulfilling and wonderful.

’But when did it all disappear? That drive, that hope for the future... When did I lose my passion for the things I loved, until all that was left was mechanically clocking in and out? When did I start feeling a hint of disgust at the sight of these beautiful plants?’

Perhaps it was when Chen Zhicheng realized that everything he loved was, in fact, worthless to the people around him and to the world at large.

"Zhicheng, playing with those flowers and plants all day is fine as a hobby. As your father, I won’t lecture you, but you need to have a proper career, like a normal person. Otherwise, how will you ever start a family...?"

"Zhicheng, you know Aunt Wang’s daughter? She’s about your age... She doesn’t look down on you, and she’s willing to settle down and build a life with you... Find a chance to meet her."

’Why "look down on you"? Why doesn’t this count as establishing a career?’

’I can clearly earn enough to support myself, can’t I? So why does everyone think this isn’t a proper career? What in the world does it take to be considered a normal person?!’

Countless times he’d wanted to roar back in defiance, but every time, just as he was about to speak or type out a reply on WeChat, he would dejectedly swallow his words and delete the message.

Because his parents were right.

In the beginning, he had opened a shop that sold only bonsai. With no reputation and no connections, he had dived headfirst into an industry of unknown depths. He had neither a professional advantage nor any relevant experience. If his family hadn’t fronted him the money to get through the most difficult days, the shop would have gone out of business long ago.

Later, he started selling fruit on the side, which allowed him to barely break even. But Chen Zhicheng knew this was only because his neighbors were doing him a favor, giving him their business instead of going to the large, state-run supermarket. How could he betray that trust? He had no choice but to focus on that aspect of the business, doing his best to source the best possible fruit.

A person’s time is limited. Before he knew it, a long time had passed since he had put any real heart into caring for his once-beloved bonsai. After a long day of hard work, the sight of their overgrown, messy leaves didn’t fill him with the thought, ’I need to prune these soon,’ but with a wave of weary annoyance.

’More work? So annoying, this stuff...’

Although he was always startled by such thoughts and would immediately try to brush them away, thoughts aren’t dust. You can’t just forget them on command.

After nine busy years, Zhicheng Flower and Fruit had finally stabilized. His parents’ nagging lessened, as if they had tacitly accepted his situation. The arranged dates, however, became more and more frequent. He was already thirty-one, after all. If he didn’t get married soon, it would really be too late.

Although he stubbornly refused to drop the "Flower" from Zhicheng Flower and Fruit to become a produce-only shop, and had even spent his meager savings on a greenhouse to keep tinkering with bonsai that stood no chance against specialty stores, Chen Zhicheng understood one thing with painful clarity: if he ever truly settled down and started a family, it would be best to give up these so-called ’hobbies’.

His family wasn’t well-off; their support for his dream was already a rare display of open-mindedness. But if he had a wife and children and still stubbornly refused to see the light, he would truly disappoint his perpetually worried parents.

This, perhaps, was what it meant to make sacrifices.

Chen Zhicheng always thought things through clearly... but every time he returned to his little shop after another arranged date, he would be overcome by a hollow sense of confusion.

’So, is this it? Is this how my life is going to be? Mediocrely running a fruit shop I never wanted, marrying a wife with whom I share no real hobbies—someone I’m just settling for, who at best "doesn’t look down on me"—and then... just living out the rest of my days?’