It is difficult to say what kind of person I am. It is far too complicated.


I am satisfied with myself, yet I hate the kind of person I am — difficult, selfish. There are moments in my life when I loathe myself.


I was born into a wealthy family and received the best education. People flatter me and accommodate me, yet I find it all unreal. I can see through their hypocrisy at a glance. Because of that, a flower and a smile given by me seem far too cheap. I feel that I must give something more fitting to my status — something that does not pass through my soul, my heart, or my eyes, ears, mouth, and nose. Yet people prefer such things.


Let me think...


I can no longer remember what I felt as a child. Perhaps the environment in which I grew was not entirely suitable, and that was what gradually made me colder and colder.


The earliest memory I can recall is by the sea. I do not remember which sea it was. The sand was extremely fine and white. The water was a clear, deep blue with a hint of green. It was afternoon, and darkness was approaching.


I saw a small black fish lying on its side in a dried-up pool of water, struggling.


I lay on the sand and dug a small channel, guiding water from a larger pool into the one that had dried up. The little fish began to swim again.


My mother, wearing a dress, walked over and pulled me up from the sand.

“Laurance, you should mind your behaviour. Never lie on the ground.”

I was led away, but I looked back at the channel I had dug. I wondered whether the little fish would swim into the larger pool, and whether it would eventually return to the sea.


That memory is so blurred. When I recall it, it feels like an old photograph covered in mist. I only remember the images I saw and the sounds I heard. I do not remember what I was thinking, what sounds I made, or what expression was on my face.


I began to learn to do what I was supposed to do. I learned to become the person my parents and my family expected me to be. As for what my original intention had been, I no longer know.


Later, it was because everyone around me was calculating their moves against me. If I was not intelligent enough, I would be 'torn apart'.


At first, I was angry whenever I failed. Later, I failed less and less often, and I realised that fairness and justice could never truly exist. They simply exist as concepts in the objective world.


I began to despise people's hypocritical admiration while, at the same time, enjoying the power I possessed. Standing above others in splendour and looking down upon them felt intoxicating. It gave me a sense of security.


There is one thing I do not want to admit: I am afraid of losing everything I have now. Because of that fear, I became even more ruthless, even more willing to stop at nothing, and even more determined to destroy every obstacle in my way.


The person I am now probably would not save a small black fish anymore.