Fly to the Universe, and Then What?

Li Tiegen felt like a sardine stuffed into a can, squeezed into the classroom of the "International Space Station Chinese Intensive Course." Outside the window was the dark universe, dotted with a few "worthless" stars. He thought, this thing isn't even as bright as the light bulb hanging on the electric pole in his old village.

"Classmates, today we are going to learn the word '奋斗' (fèndòu - struggle/strive)," the teacher, with a thick northeastern accent, shouted at the top of his lungs, "Repeat after me, 奋——斗——"

Li Tiegen pursed his lips, thinking, struggle my ass! It's not as interesting as feeding pigs in the village back then. At least then, he could chat with the sow. Now, he can only stare blankly at a group of blonde and blue-eyed "international friends." Who would have thought that one day, going to space would require learning Chinese first? It's said that this is because the Chinese space station has become humanity's last hope, and anyone who wants to take refuge there must first pass the language barrier.

This whole thing, the more you think about it, the more absurd it feels.

Li Tiegen still remembers that when the news first came out, Widow Wang in the village hugged the TV and cried her heart out, muttering: "It's over, it's over, my man won't be able to come back now!" Li Tiegen even laughed at her at the time, saying that maybe her man had found a foreign wife in outer space and was having too much fun to return.

But now, Li Tiegen can't laugh. He feels like Widow Wang's man, trapped in a place that's neither here nor there.

"Li Tiegen! Come and explain, what is the antonym of '奋斗' (fèndòu)?" The teacher suddenly called his name.

Li Tiegen jumped, stood up, scratched his head, and answered in his broken Mandarin: "躺平 (tǎngpíng - lying flat)?"

The classroom erupted in laughter.

"Wrong! It's '等死' (děngsǐ - waiting for death)!" The teacher corrected sternly, "You must remember that in the universe, if you don't struggle, you can only wait for death!"

Li Tiegen felt that this made sense, but something still felt off. He remembered his deceased father. His father had toiled in the fields all his life, like an old ox, working from dawn till dusk, but in the end? He was still dirt poor, unable to even afford a decent coffin.

What kind of struggle was that?

"Okay, now let's learn the word '奉献' (fèngxiàn - dedication/devotion)..." The teacher continued to talk incessantly.

Li Tiegen's thoughts, however, had drifted to the other side of the universe. He wondered, if there really were aliens, would they be like humans, busy and tireless, for survival, for the so-called "meaning," forever?

Or, would they be like those written in science fiction novels, possessing a highly developed civilization, having long surpassed the shackles of matter and achieved spiritual eternity?

But if that were the case, would they still come to Earth? Would they still care about this broken and dilapidated planet?

Li Tiegen shook his head, driving these messy thoughts out of his mind. He felt like a sock thrown into a washing machine, swept along by the torrent of reality, unable to control himself.

"Class dismissed!"

Li Tiegen was relieved, and followed the crowd out of the classroom. In the corridor, people of all colors spoke Chinese with various accents, discussing words like "内卷" (nèijuǎn - involution), "996" (working from 9 am to 9 pm, 6 days a week), and "福报" (fúbào - blessing, often used sarcastically to refer to excessive work).

Li Tiegen felt that this scene was even more magical than the universe itself.

He walked to the porthole and looked at the deep universe. He suddenly remembered what the old people in the village used to say when he was a child: "People, they live for a hope."

But now, what was his hope?

Was it to return to Earth and continue living that predictable life? Or to stay on this space station and become a "Chinese expert" in the eyes of "international friends"?

He didn't know.

He only knew that he was like a kite with a broken string, drifting aimlessly, unable to find a place to land.

"It's all just熬日子 (áo rìzi - enduring the days) anyway," Li Tiegen said to himself, his voice filled with exhaustion and helplessness, "I might as well think about what to eat for dinner."

At this time, a sweet female voice sounded from the broadcast: "Dear passengers, the space station is about to enter 'Dragon Head Raising' mode. Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare to welcome the mysterious power from the East..."

Li Tiegen rolled his eyes, thinking: These people, they sure know how to put on a show!