The Moss in the Corner

The moss in the corner, a dark, almost black green, like an unresolved knot of depression.

Old Zhang, clutching a thick law book, sat in the guard booth at Peking University's West Gate, his eyes fixed on the corner of the wall. He'd held this book for ten years, from brand new to dog-eared, from hopeful to numb.

Ten years ago, he was a strong, young man from the countryside, harboring a vague yearning for the law. He came to this prestigious university – as a security guard. He thought this place was a temple of knowledge, a place where dreams took flight. He thought that as long as he worked hard enough, he could change his destiny, just like the bright young students who came and went.

He stood guard during the day and studied by lamplight at night. The legal provisions were obscure, the cases complex, but he gnawed at them like bones, bit by bit, grinding away. Colleagues laughed at his foolish dreams, and his family urged him to be content with his lot. He just chuckled and continued to bury himself in his studies.

The first time he took the Legal Professional Qualification Examination, his palms were sweaty, his pen trembled. The result, naturally, was failure. He refused to give up, gritted his teeth, and continued to prepare.

The second, the third... Year after year, like Sisyphus pushing his boulder, he tried again and again, failing each time. The exam was like a towering wall, separating him and his dreams into two different worlds.

On the sixth attempt, he finally passed.

When the news came, he didn't experience the imagined euphoria. He just sat quietly in the guard booth, looking at the moss in the corner, a dark green, like a stain that could never be washed away.

He thought that passing the exam would change his destiny. But reality was like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing all his passion.

He was already in his forties, his hair graying, his face etched with wrinkles. He had no degree, no connections, no background. He was just a security guard who had passed the Legal Professional Qualification Examination.

He took that thin certificate and went everywhere, hoping to find a job related to law. But he was repeatedly rebuffed, repeatedly disappointed.

"You're too old."

"You have no experience."

"You're just a security guard."

...

These words, like knives, pierced his heart. He finally understood that the wall wasn't just the exam; it was age, it was education, it was status, it was social class.

He resigned.

The day he left Peking University, he looked back one last time at the familiar red walls and green tiles. Under the sunlight, everything seemed so solemn, so sacred. Only he, like an incompatible outsider, was ruthlessly excluded.

He clutched that thick law book and walked into the vast sea of people.

He didn't know where his future lay. He only knew that his ten years of effort were like the moss in the corner, growing tenaciously, but never seeing the sunlight.

There are some things in this world that you may never get, no matter how hard you try. And some things, you get, only to find that they are not what you wanted.

This is life.

He walked silently, his figure gradually disappearing into the crowd, like a drop of water merging into the ocean, never to be found again. Only the moss in the corner remained, a dark green, like an unresolved knot of depression, quietly telling a humble and helpless story.