I used to think that once you reach a certain age, you’d become someone with height, depth, and breadth—but lacking warmth. After all, people with height, depth, and breadth generally tend to be less warm. They remain calm in the face of events, neither elated by external circumstances nor saddened by personal misfortunes; they do not become angry when unjustly accused, nor are they startled by sudden events. They keep their composure and do not express their opinions lightly.

Now I’ve noticed that as society becomes increasingly open in the Internet age, rather than rising to greater heights, people are actually becoming more and more drawn to the vulgar. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. As Taiwanese singer Zheng Zhihua once said, he always looks at life from below, and the life he sees is all the more fascinating. Most people look up and see faces; look down and see waists; look even lower and see heels. Zheng Zhihua sees what others fail to acknowledge. What I’ve come to see since turning 50 brings me more joy than I ever imagined in my twenties, because the world has become more authentic.

What’s more, the issues are getting smaller and smaller. I used to think we could tackle big issues—matters of national and family sentiment—but now I see that’s not the case. Why? Society has its own division of labor: artists handle artistic matters, officials handle official matters, and businesspeople focus on business. As for me, I need to stick to my own role and take good care of the small matters that fall under my purview.

Furthermore, the times seem to have become more superficial. So-called “depth” is actually very simple: it’s like pickling pain like you would pickle vegetables, and then pulling out two cucumbers—that’s what “depth” is. Anything that is painful, that has settled and cannot flow, and that cannot be instantly dissolved by the senses—that is depth. Many writers from Shaanxi, Shanxi, and Henan are profound. Why is that?

Take Lu Yao, for example. Back in the day, when he was writing, he’d have a bowl of plain water here on his desk and a steamed bun there, and in the end, he wrote *Life*—a deeply moving work. But why aren’t the works from Shenzhen and Hong Kong as profound? Because no matter how much suffering there is, it all vanishes after a night out at a bar or nightclub—so there’s no room for depth.

The "Little Era" of today is the exact opposite of what I had originally imagined. First, it has become less sophisticated; second, it has become smaller; and third, it has become more superficial.

The biggest difference between young people in “The Little Era” and those in “The Great Era” is their vocabulary.

Jia Pingwa wrote an essay about two men from Shaanxi, roughly my age, who were squatting in an outhouse discussing the Iraq conflict. After going through the entire spectrum of international affairs, they finally realized they hadn’t brought any toilet paper. They’d forgotten something as important as bringing toilet paper to the bathroom, yet they were still concerned about the international situation. This is, of course, a joke, but people from Shaanxi generally belong to this kind of “grand era”—their sentiments span five thousand years.

“People born in the 1980s and 1990s generally talk about themselves, or at most their coworkers; discussing Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou is considered a major topic. Beyond that, they focus on things like researching mortgages, dating, and work—and also think about leisure activities, travel, and what to buy. This distinction actually stems from a difference in mindset—whether one focuses on their own affairs or meddles in others” business. People of the “Great Era” tended to meddle in others“ affairs, whereas the greatest strength of the ”post-80s“ and ”post-90s” generations is that they’ve started to focus on their own affairs. In this society, I believe that if you can’t even manage your own affairs properly, you certainly won’t be able to manage others’ either.

In addition, there is a significant difference in the amount of information people take in. People in the past primarily relied on their eyes to read, and at most, their ears. Nowadays, people process information using nearly all five senses, and the volume of information is enormous. This brings two benefits: first, it improves what we call “quality” and adaptability; second, it enhances creativity. To date, the cost of acquiring knowledge has been steadily decreasing. In the past, the cost of acquiring knowledge was so high that a village had to support an elderly scholar; if that scholar died, the entire village might have become illiterate. Now, the cost of knowledge is so low that with a single click of the mouse, everything is available. However, the cost of creation is becoming increasingly high—what you know, everyone else knows as well—so the pressure to create and innovate is greater than ever before.

Another factor is the growing awareness of individual rights. When working in real estate customer service, you’ll find that clients around 70 years old tend to rely on “grand narratives”; when faced with disagreements or problems, they’ve never even considered consulting a lawyer—and even if you pay for one, they won’t trust them. Homeowners around 40 are much easier to communicate with, while younger clients—those under 30—don’t even bother meeting in person; they just go straight to a lawyer to file a lawsuit. This shows that today’s young people are becoming more aware of their rights and the importance of following rules. This generation has become more practical, self-aware, and knows how to look out for themselves.

“The ”post-80s“ and ”post-90s” generations are the hope for China’s next 20 years. For only those who can see the future have a future; only those who cheer for the future can create it; and only those who view today from the perspective of the future can find happiness.