I gradually realized,
some people like to speak in a carefree tone.

That kind of carefree tone isn’t quiet,
but carries a bit of sharpness,
and a bit of deliberate noise.

In public settings,
they will call out a few familiar people.
Their tone sounds casual,
as if joking,
yet also as if naming someone.

The onlookers laugh,
the atmosphere gets lifted,
and they stand in the middle,
appearing to have weight.

At first, I thought
it was straightforwardness.
It was honesty.
It was a kind of courage that didn’t care about relationships.

Later, I slowly realized
it was more like a posture.

Because people who are truly steady
don’t really need to prove themselves in front of a crowd.
They are not eager to draw a blade,
nor eager to declare a stance.
They know when to speak,
and when to stop.

And those frequent “carefree” moments
almost always happen around safe targets —
familiar people,
people who won’t truly fall out with them,
people who won’t openly push back.

That makes everything subtle.

It is no longer communication,
but more like a low-cost test of power.
Under everyone’s gaze,
they step lightly on someone,
to see whether anyone will push back.

If no one does,
that silence gets misread as acceptance.
And acceptance gets misread as authority.

So sharpness begins to turn into a performance.
“I dare to speak the truth.”
“I’m not afraid of offending people.”
These lines get used repeatedly,
like a shell
wrapping around some form of unease.

I don’t deny
that some things do need to be said directly.
Some relationships can indeed withstand friction.

But when “calling people out in public”
becomes a way to build one’s presence,
it stops being honesty
and becomes a persona.

I started learning to distinguish between two things:
weight, and noise.

Some people are loud,
but land lightly.

Some people barely speak,
yet make others instinctively adjust their boundaries.

True authority
rarely needs an audience.
It exists in consistent behavior,
in private respect,
in those moments that don’t need to be displayed.

Later, I was also teased,
lightly singled out.

I didn’t push back on the spot.
Nor did I play along.

I just stood there quietly,
and suddenly realized something:

Some people need the presence of others
to raise their own position.

And some people
only need to stand.

Lately I’ve been noticing something more and more clearly:

I’m no longer on the same channel as some of the friends around me.

<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; -webkit-text-decoration: underline dotted;">They still talk about what to eat, where to go, which game to play, and which woman.</u>
None of these topics are unfamiliar. I used to join in naturally.
But at some point, without realizing it, I started becoming quiet in those conversations.

It’s not that I don’t understand.
I just can’t get interested anymore.

What fills my mind now is more like:

Is there a better way to write this code
Can this site structure be cleaner
Can the server setup be optimized
Can I implement this feature myself

Sometimes they’re chatting loudly and laughing, while I’m thinking about a bug.
Or a project that isn’t finished yet.

I’m physically there,
but my attention isn’t.

It’s Not That They Changed

I Just Started Moving in Another Direction

At first, this shift felt a little strange.

I wondered if I was becoming less sociable.
If I was starting to look down on those conversations.

But slowly I realized:
it’s not about who’s better than whom.

We’re just heading in different directions.

Their rhythm leans toward instant enjoyment:

<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; -webkit-text-decoration: underline dotted;">After work → relax → entertainment → chatting
Be happy today, that’s enough</u>

And I’ve grown used to another rhythm:

<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; -webkit-text-decoration: underline dotted;">After work → work on projects → write something → refine structure
Slower, but something remains</u>

I didn’t intentionally try to become “hard-working.”
I just became increasingly addicted to making things.

When I write code, time becomes quiet.
When a site finally runs, there’s a sense of solidity.
Even fixing a small issue satisfies me more than a lot of small talk.

It’s subtle,
but once you get used to it,
it’s hard to return to how things were before.

Conversations Start to Feel Like Courtesy

Now when I’m with some friends, I still talk.

I laugh when it’s appropriate.
I respond when spoken to.

But I know many topics no longer truly pull me in.

Sometimes they ask what I’ve been up to.
I say I’ve been coding, building sites.
They nod,
and the conversation quickly returns to games or something else.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

It’s just becoming clearer to me:

the overlap between us is shrinking.

We used to talk all night.
Now ten minutes is enough.

It’s not that the relationship got worse.
Our frequencies just started to drift apart.

I’ve Started Enjoying a Quieter Kind of Focus

I’m finding myself enjoying more and more the process of:

working on things alone
solving problems alone
building something by myself

It isn’t lively.
Sometimes it’s even a little lonely.
But it feels real.

When a site goes live,
when a function finally works,
when a piece of code becomes clean and clear,

the satisfaction is quiet,
but steady.

It doesn’t hit as fast as the joy of a gathering,
but it lasts longer.

I’m Not Planning to Leave Anyone Behind

I’m not trying to distance myself from anyone.

Those friends are still friends.
The way we interact just shifts gradually.

I don’t force myself to engage deeply in every topic anymore.
And I don’t expect them to fully understand what I’m doing.

If we can talk, we talk.
If we can’t, that’s okay too.

Life naturally has different phases.
Some people are meant to share the noise with you.
Some are meant to share growth.

And right now,
I might be in a phase that needs more focus.

Maybe This Is Just Another Shape of Growth

I don’t think I’ve become better.
I’ve just become clearer about:

what excites me
what quiets me
what’s worth long-term effort

As I put more time into code, websites, and projects,
some relationships naturally fade a little.

Not out of intention,
but because attention has shifted.

Maybe after some time
I’ll meet more people who are also building things.
Maybe not.

But at least for now,
I know the direction I’m heading.

Frequencies drifting apart doesn’t mean anyone has left anyone.
It just means:

we’re each walking
on tracks that suit us better.

And I’m slowly getting used to
this quieter road.

You always come across some drunk people on the side of the road at night, holding each other up and laughing loudly, optimistic as if they could never be knocked down. I wonder, among these staggering souls, which ones are truly happy.

Walking along the roadside at night, you always encounter some intoxicated people.
Their steps are unsteady, yet they support each other, as if forming a temporary alliance; their voices are loud, they laugh without restraint, and the topics they discuss burst intermittently in the air. That laughter is too full, so full that it creates an illusion—as if the world has never left any scars on them.

They appear optimistic to the point of stubbornness, as if no matter how life pushes and shoves, it can only make them stagger, never truly fall.

Yet I can’t help but wonder, among these unsteady souls, how many are genuinely happy.

<br>

Alcohol makes people feel lighter.
It’s not that the problems become lighter, but that the feelings become lighter. Reality still exists, but it’s temporarily placed somewhere out of reach. So people can laugh carefreely, let loose without worry, and willingly hand over their dignity and self-control to the night. In that moment, they aren’t winning against life; they’re just temporarily not confronting it.

<br>

Some are truly happy. Friends are by their side, the night breeze is just right, the city lights are gentle, and tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet. Happiness is complete in this moment, needing no explanation, no continuation.

<br>

Some, however, are not happy—they simply don’t want to be sober.
Being sober means calculating, means comparing, means returning to the person they are during the day—the one who needs to take responsibility, be evaluated, and constantly prove they’re still “doing okay.” Alcohol presses the pause button for them, rendering all judgment ineffective, making failures, disappointments, and regrets temporarily weightless.

<br>

And then there are those who laugh the hardest.
Their laughter is like a declaration—I’m fine, I’m good, I can keep going. The louder they are, the more it seems like they’re trying to convince themselves. Because once they fall silent, something will catch up, standing right behind them.

<br>

So I prefer to believe that it’s not just their bodies that are unsteady.
It’s that life, at some moment, doesn’t want to stand upright.
It’s souls briefly leaning against each other, borrowing a bit of strength, a bit of liveliness, pretending they’re not alone.

<br>

Alcohol brings everyone to the same level, making them all seem alike. But once daylight comes, the weight each must bear is still different. Some will keep walking, some will stay where they are, and some won’t even want to look back at who they were the night before.

<br>

True happiness is actually quiet.
It doesn’t need loud laughter to maintain its presence, nor does it rush to prove itself to passersby.
And that kind of repeatedly amplified happiness is often just to offset something.

<div style="display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; gap: 10px; margin: 20px 0;"> <img src="https://icloud.aifsx.cn/f/4q3c9/f89a5f28210823b7b77ec9c5d3f5370.jpg" width="200" alt=" " style="border-radius: 8px 0 8px 0;"> <img src="https://icloud.aifsx.cn/f/w1dib/f0db99774fa4e49cecf65dcea017f8b.jpg " width="200" alt=" " style="border-radius: 8px 0 8px 0;"> </div>

Under the streetlights, the figures gradually disperse, and the laughter fades around the corner.
The night returns to its original order.
Only those who have walked past know whether that night, they were truly happy, or just temporarily not in pain.

You know, what if you had met me first? What kind of story would that have been?

A person sometimes
easily drifts back to old things.

In sixth grade, you won third place in the province for calligraphy.
In middle school, your English dictation and speech scores were exceptionally high.
For the college entrance exam, you got into your dream university with outstanding marks.
Right after finishing your postgraduate studies,
you got married.

What I admire most about you is
your utter devotion to him,
your silent, unwavering loyalty.

I truly thought you would be happy,
married to someone you'd known since childhood.

I truly thought with your education,
you'd surely find a stable, good job.

So how… how did it end like this?

Because you didn't end up with a good husband.
If you had been with me back then,
how could this tragedy have happened?

But then again,
if you really had been with me,
if you hadn't reconciled with him,

I probably wouldn't cherish that version of you so much now.

Why?

Because I, too, admire people who are wholeheartedly devoted, who think only of the other,
but preferably if that devotion is directed at me!

If Lijuan could know,

If she could hear these words of mine, tangled with admiration, regret, and self-analysis, perhaps she would stay silent, then offer me a complex, understanding smile.

<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; -webkit-text-decoration: underline dotted;">She might say, "You see, what you miss and admire is the me who persisted in being 'loyal' within my fate. But the real me and my choices were probably more complicated than you imagined. My tragedy wasn't entirely about 'not choosing the right person.' It could have stemmed from the times, my own nature, chance, and even attachments I myself might not have fully understood. And your longing for 'pure loyalty' alongside your doubt about it—that's the eternal struggle within each of us, between love and possession. Thank you for remembering the good in me, and thank you for this brutally honest reflection—it makes us both seem real, not perfect."</u>

Perhaps the deepest sorrow of this story is that there are no 'what ifs.'

All hypotheticals, whether of salvation or ruin, are merely conversations conducted by the living on this side of time with the departed on the other—conversations that can never truly arrive. And in this dialogue, what I ultimately confront is the faint echo deep within my own heart, concerning love, possession, morality, and desire.

This echo is so heavy because it is about the fall of one specific life, and also about the unsolvable riddle of 'what if' that resides in every person's heart.

They don’t really have any grand expectations.

It’s not that they “have no ambitions,”
they’ve just converted their ambitions into
the small slice of happiness they can bear.

During the day, they’re dulled by time, performance metrics, moods, and rules,
and at night, they just want to
give themselves back for a little while—

Even if it’s just
winning a game,
having an inexpensive drink,
zoning out on the sofa,
or casually replying with
“haha,” “yeah,” “maybe another time.”

And many moms,
their workday doesn’t really end.

At home, they still handle household chores,
doing laundry, cooking, tidying up,
putting the day back in order.

They switch between different roles—
a pillar for their children,
a supportive partner,
“the responsible one” in their parents’ eyes,
an employee who has to control emotions at work,
occasionally pretending everything is fine in front of friends.

They shuttle between school drop-offs and pick-ups,
homework, parent groups, and daily chores,
navigate compromises, patience, and communication in their marriage,
and constantly adjust their measures between friends’ messages and leaders’ demands.

Sometimes they exchange a few words with friends on WeChat,
not deep,
not solving anything,
just to confirm
someone still remembers you exist.

Few people ask if they are tired,
because all these roles are bundled together,
assumed to be
“things you should naturally be able to do”.

Their breathing space is even more fragmented—
after the kids fall asleep,
leaning on the bed scrolling WeChat or Douyin for a few minutes,
the screen isn’t bright,
yet it’s enough to
let the world be quiet for a moment.

They don’t expect these things to change their fate,
they just hope they
won’t drain them any further.

Many people ridicule this kind of life as “boring” or “lowly,”
but the truly frightening thing has never been ordinariness,
it’s—
<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; text-decoration-thickness: 2px">having even this cheap breathing space taken away</u>,
<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; text-decoration-thickness: 2px">and still being required to smile while understanding the world</u>.

Most people don’t ask for much:
not grand narratives,
not distant ideals,
just that at the end of the day,
they can quietly tell themselves:

and still be able to say:

<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; text-decoration-thickness: 2px">Today</u>,
<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; text-decoration-thickness: 2px">I survived too</u>.

But there is one thing I want to make clear—
what I disdain has never been “being slow”.

What I disdain is a state that refuses self-reflection:
cognition frozen in place, yet unaware of itself;
ability not yet reached, yet unwilling to learn;
limited understanding, yet expecting the world to make way for it.

Stupidity itself is not frightening.
What is truly exhausting is having no awareness of one’s own limits, while remaining highly confident.

It is like a dinner gathering,
where someone who has barely ever cooked insists on critiquing every dish,
declares the chef incompetent when the taste does not suit them,
and never considers that their palate might be narrow.

They are often not malicious.
They simply tend to treat bias as conclusion,
emotion as evidence,
and limited experience as universal truth.

When reality deviates from their understanding,
they are more likely to feel hurt
than to feel curious.

So—
explanations sound like arguments,
patience is mistaken for concession,
logic appears cold,
and boundaries are read as distance.

I gradually realized
that what truly drains people is not disagreement itself,
but the repeatedly ineffective communication that follows it.

The feeling is familiar:
like at a dinner table
where you have already explained the ingredients, the heat, the method clearly enough,
yet the other person keeps asking the same questions,
only to prove that their initial dissatisfaction was justified.

It is also like an argument with a colleague.
The issue itself is not complicated—
plans, data, and consequences are all laid out plainly.
But the other person is not genuinely concerned with any of that.
They care about only one thing—
not appearing to be wrong.

So the discussion turns into circles,
facts are repeatedly pulled apart,
conclusions are constantly overturned,
and every response exists only to return to the starting point.

At that moment, it becomes clear
that you are not solving a problem,
but accompanying someone in defending their self-esteem.

The same questions keep reappearing,
the same answers are rejected again and again,
not because they are incomprehensible,
but because no one is willing to pay the cost of understanding.

<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; text-decoration-thickness: 2px">They would rather have you chew everything up and place it in front of them</u>,
<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; text-decoration-thickness: 2px">preferably also completing the judgment on their behalf</u>.

When understanding becomes an obligation,
communication turns into a burden,
and relationships quietly begin to deteriorate.

There is another, more concealed state—
not stupidity, but a fear of complexity.

The world is reduced to right and wrong, us and them, good and evil.
This feels safer, and requires less effort.

But complexity, ambiguity, and multiple perspectives
are precisely the normal condition of reality.

Those who reject complexity
are often not firm in their stance,
but rather lack the capacity to carry complexity.

They need a judgment that can immediately stand,
so that their unease can settle as quickly as possible.

The reason I keep my distance from all this
is not because I consider myself intelligent.

On the contrary—
it is precisely because I know I can fall into blind spots as well
that I am more willing to maintain learning, revision, and doubt.

I can accept ignorance,
but I struggle to accept the stubborn preservation of ignorance.

I respect differences,
but I am unwilling to continually yield to laziness, rigidity, and emotional loss of control.

So later, I learned to set certain boundaries:

• Not treating explanation as an obligation
• Not treating empathy as a transaction
• Not repeatedly engaging in conversations without growth
• Not bearing the cost of others’ stagnation

Like leaving a dinner table where the food was never going to suit you,
I choose to excuse myself early.

This is not coldness,
but rather a careful regard for one’s energy.

Disdain for stupidity is not a sense of superiority.
It is closer to a mechanism of self-selection.

Not to stand higher than others,
but to avoid being dragged into the consumption of
low-quality thinking, inefficient communication, and low-density relationships.

The world is already noisy enough.
I simply choose
to reserve my limited time
for those who can truly engage in dialogue.

Not the kind that had just risen, still tinged with an orange edge, but one that had settled, its light calm, its outline sharp, like an object polished by time. It was in no hurry to illuminate anything; it simply existed.

I stood there, watching it for a while.

People rarely truly "look" at the moon. More often, they just know it's there. Like so many things—hometowns, old friends, people long out of touch—they occupy a place in memory but are seldom gazed upon with true attention.

The act of gazing at the moon itself carries a hint of hesitation.

You don't know what to project onto it, yet vaguely feel it should bear something.

As a child reading "I lift my head to gaze at the bright moon," I always thought it was a romantic posture. Only after growing up did I realize that those who truly stop to gaze at the moon are often not doing so out of happiness. More often, it's after everything is done, words have been spoken, the world has temporarily quieted down, and only you are left, still searching for a suitable place to be.

The moon answers no questions.

It simply sheds its light evenly, impartially.

It suddenly struck me that gazing at the moon is not about seeking resonance, but about confirming distance.

Confirming the impassable space between it and me;

And confirming the same between me and certain pasts.

Those relationships that have ended, paths not taken, thoughts set aside—they haven't vanished; they've merely been placed in a position of "no longer approaching." Like the moon, visible, yet unreachable.

This clarity, instead, brings peace.

Moonlight falls upon the ground—not sharp, nor gentle. It merely brings contours into view—the shadows of trees, eaves, and people all become sharply defined. You can finally see clearly what is reality and what is merely imagination.

I stood a while longer, took no photos, left no record of any kind.

Just watching.

Some moments simply do not need to be preserved.

Their purpose for existing is merely to let you, in that instant, confirm that you are still within the world.

The moon still hung there.

I turned and left; it would not change its position because of that.

But I knew I had gazed upon it.

Yesterday, I was suddenly added to a chat group. Without any warning, or any omen. My phone vibrated once on the desk, and as the screen lit up, the steady light in the room was briefly interrupted—as if someone had casually slotted me into a space that was already in motion.

When I first joined the group, I did chat a little. A simple greeting, adding a couple of lines following the ongoing topic—enough to not be silent, but not too conspicuous either. The white light from the phone screen cast a glow on my face, appearing neither harsh in the bright afternoon environment, merely adding a layer of coolness. It was a very instinctive reaction—since I'd been added, I should at least make myself "appear present."

Outside the window was an ordinary afternoon scene. Light slanted in from the window, bright but not intense, and occasionally, people passed by in the distance. Messages in the group came quickly, topics pushing forward one after another. Much of what was said didn't seem to be in reply to anyone; it was more like each person was putting out what they wanted to say. As I read, I tried to discern: Some might just be speaking out of habit, some were killing time, and others perhaps just needed a place to finish their thoughts, not really caring if there was a response.

There was one exchange in the middle that made me pause and look a bit longer. Someone in the group said "cpdd" (probably meaning looking for a couple), their tone very casual. Another person jokingly recommended someone to them, which started off like banter, but then the other person's mood suddenly shifted, saying that person was "sick." Several lines popped up in succession, the tone turning sharp. The brightness of the screen didn't change, but the air in the room seemed to tighten silently. It was just a few sentences back and forth, yet it completed a shift from relaxed to confrontational. Interesting.

I tried to keep up with the pace, but gradually realized this kind of conversation didn't really need many participants. The people who actually talked frequently in the group were just a handful. The phone grew slightly warm in my hand, messages continuing to scroll upward. It was more like a flowing river—who stood on the bank, who stepped into the water, it ultimately didn't matter much.

As the chat went on, I spoke less and less. Not disappearing on purpose, nor suddenly losing interest, just gradually realizing that many topics would naturally continue even if I didn't chime in. Outside the window, vehicles passed by occasionally, light and shadow briefly flickering on the wall before settling back. My presence or absence didn't really affect the flow of the conversation.

So after that, I mostly just watched. Opening it occasionally, scanning a few lines, my fingertips lingering on the screen for a few seconds before letting go. Watching them each talk about their own things, as if moving forward together in the same space, yet never truly intersecting. Soon it was already night. The group was still lively, while in my room settled the quiet of the evening, broken only by the occasional light from my phone, brightening then dimming again.

I suppose I've always been this kind of person— Chatting a bit when first joining a group, then, once confirming my constant voice isn't needed here, naturally quieting down. Not out of indifference, nor aloofness. It's just that, more than participating, I'm more accustomed to standing to the side, in the flickering light of the screen, observing how people create their own separate liveliness.

<div class="video-container"> <video id="videoPlayer" muted playsinline> <source id="videoSource" type="video/mp4"> </video> <button class="play-button" id="playButton"></button> <div class="volume-control"> <input id="volumeSlider" class="volume-slider" type="range" min="0" max="1" step="0.01" value="0"> </div> <button class="next-button" id="nextButton">Next</button> </div>

<script> document.addEventListener('dragstart', (e) => { e.preventDefault(); }); const videoPlayer = document.getElementById('videoPlayer'); const playButton = document.getElementById('playButton'); const nextButton = document.getElementById('nextButton'); const volumeSlider = document.getElementById('volumeSlider'); const videoSource = document.getElementById('videoSource'); const apiKey = "9935jhjh0"; // Enter your own key arbitrarily. Minimum 8, maximum 12 characters (a-z, 0-9, no symbols). Try a different key if it doesn't work. const domain = "xn--otsr53afot.com"; // Your domain; must fill in your own. For subdomains calling the API, fill in the subdomain. You can omit http(s):// const baseUrl = "https://api.xn--otsr53afot.com/videos/open.php"; </script> <script src="https://api.xn--otsr53afot.com/videos/js/open.js"></script>

How to Use

Method 1: Create a Standalone Page

Suitable for: Creating a dedicated video playback page.

Steps:

1. Create a new HTML page.
2. Copy the following complete code into the page.
3. Configure parameters (see instructions below).

<!DOCTYPE html>
<html lang="zh">
<head>
    
    <meta charset="UTF-8">
    <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0">
    <title>Video Player</title>
    <link href="https://api.xn--otsr53afot.com/videos/css/muziqingcss.css" rel="stylesheet">
    <style>
        body {
            margin: 0;
            padding: 0;
            display: flex;
            justify-content: center;
            align-items: center;
            min-height: 100vh;
            background-color: #fff;
        }
    </style>
</head>
<body>
    <div class="video-container">
        <video id="videoPlayer" muted playsinline>
            <source id="videoSource" type="video/mp4">
        </video>
        <button class="play-button" id="playButton"></button>
        <div class="volume-control">
            <input id="volumeSlider" class="volume-slider" type="range" min="0" max="1" step="0.01" value="0">
        </div>
        <button class="next-button" id="nextButton">Next</button>
    </div>

    <script>
        document.addEventListener('dragstart', (e) => { e.preventDefault(); });
        const videoPlayer = document.getElementById('videoPlayer');
        const playButton = document.getElementById('playButton');
        const nextButton = document.getElementById('nextButton');
        const volumeSlider = document.getElementById('volumeSlider');
        const videoSource = document.getElementById('videoSource');
        const apiKey = "YourKey";  // Custom API key (8-12 characters, a-z, 0-9)
        const domain = "YourDomain";  // The domain name where this code is deployed
        const baseUrl = "https://api.xn--otsr53afot.com/videos/open.php";
    </script>
    <script src="https://api.xn--otsr53afot.com/videos/js/open.js"></script>
</body>
</html>

Method 2: Embed into an Existing Page

Suitable for: Embedding the video player into an existing page.

Steps:

1. Copy the following code into the HTML container of your page.
2. Configure parameters (see instructions below).

<link href="https://api.xn--otsr53afot.com/videos/css/muziqingcss.css" rel="stylesheet">
    
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<div class="video-container">
    <video id="videoPlayer" muted playsinline>
        <source id="videoSource" type="video/mp4">
    </video>
    <button class="play-button" id="playButton"></button>
    <div class="volume-control">
        <input id="volumeSlider" class="volume-slider" type="range" min="0" max="1" step="0.01" value="0">
    </div>
    <button class="next-button" id="nextButton">Next</button>
</div>

<script>
    document.addEventListener('dragstart', (e) => { e.preventDefault(); });
    const videoPlayer = document.getElementById('videoPlayer');
    const playButton = document.getElementById('playButton');
    const nextButton = document.getElementById('nextButton');
    const volumeSlider = document.getElementById('volumeSlider');
    const videoSource = document.getElementById('videoSource');
    const apiKey = "YourKey";  // Custom API key (8-12 characters, a-z, 0-9)
    const domain = "YourDomain";  // The domain name where this code is deployed
    const baseUrl = "https://api.xn--otsr53afot.com/videos/open.php";
</script>
<script src="https://api.xn--otsr53afot.com/videos/js/open.js"></script>

Parameter Configuration Instructions

API Key (apiKey)

• Format Requirements: 8-12 characters, containing only letters (a-z) and numbers (0-9).
• How to Generate: Enter arbitrarily, e.g., myvideo123, randomkey456.
• Note: If a key doesn't work, try changing to a different one.

Domain (domain)

• Meaning: The website domain where this code is deployed.
• Format:
  • Primary domain: example.com
  • Subdomain: www.example.com
  • Do not include the protocol (http:// or https://).
• Examples:
  • If the code is deployed at https://example.com, fill in example.com.
  • If deployed at https://www.example.com, fill in www.example.com.

Important Reminders

• Domain Must Be Accurate: The API validates based on the domain. An incorrect domain will not work.
• Maintain Consistency: All pages under the same domain should use the same domain configuration.
• Testing Recommendation: Test the functionality after deployment. If there are issues, check the domain configuration.

I have seen a marriage in which the husband was many years older than his wife. Age itself was not the issue; the real problem was that their levels of understanding were never aligned. What this gap brought was not simple quarrels, but a far more subtle and long-lasting erosion — a marriage marked by cognitive mismatch.

The first thing to collapse is communication

When the cognitive levels of two people differ too much,
communication becomes extremely painful.

You talk about facts, logic, responsibilities, and long-term consequences,
but what the other person receives are attitudes, emotions, positions, and whether they feel judged.

You speak of “the matter itself,”
she hears “are you criticizing me?”

Whenever opinions differ,
it is interpreted as blame, criticism, or belittlement.

In such conversations,
reason cannot get through, while emotions are endlessly amplified.

Over time, you will realize:

• Explaining is futile
• Discussing is dangerous
• Silence becomes self-protection

And the death of communication is often the first step toward the collapse of a marriage.

What truly exhausts you is the one-way flow of responsibility

The deeper pain is not quarrels,
but responsibility flowing long-term only on one side.

You can see the essence of problems,
know where the family should go,
and are willing to bear the pressure and take responsibility.

But the other party:

• Cannot understand your thinking
• Cannot share your burden
• Even creates new chaos at critical moments

Thus, you are forced to remain in a state of:

• Cannot collapse
• Cannot lose control
• Cannot show weakness
• Must remain rational

You are not tired from giving, but from “giving without return.”

Over time, one inevitably experiences:

• Anxiety
• Insomnia
• Emotional exhaustion
• Mental wear

This is not weakness, but the inevitable result of prolonged depletion.

The most desperate thing is not being tired, but having no refuge for the soul

What truly crushes a person
is often not material pressure,
but the complete isolation of the inner world.

You have grievances, but no one understands.
You give, but no one sees.
You have emotions, but no one can carry them.

Financially, you carry the weight;
spiritually, you receive no nourishment.

You gradually realize:
this marriage is like an empty shell,
maintaining a structure without resonance.

And because of children, responsibilities, and reality,
you cannot easily leave.

Wanting to live poorly,
wanting to escape, but cannot.

One is trapped in such a marriage,
losing vitality little by little.

The ultimate outcome is often only two possibilities:

• Becoming an irritable person
• Or becoming a silent, mute shell of oneself

Cognitive mismatch itself is not the original sin; what is truly fatal is refusing to grow, refusing empathy, refusing self-reflection.
When one side only trusts their own feelings and views differing opinions as attacks, no matter how responsible or hardworking the other side is, they will eventually be depleted over time.

The pain of this marriage is not poverty, nor quarrels, but long-term mental exhaustion:
you give, take responsibility, and work hard, yet receive no understanding or feedback;
you feel grievance, anxiety, and fatigue, yet cannot find a harbor to rest.

The soul is lonely in such a relationship, slowly being hollowed out.

If you are also in such a relationship, at least admit one thing:
You are not whining without cause.

You are simply someone who has been consumed for too long.

They would rather lose than lower their head.<br /> <span style="font-size: 0.9em; color: gray;"><span style="font-size: 0.9em; color: gray;">Fragile high self-esteem is not a flawed personality, but it can make intimate relationships very difficult and make the person themselves suffer more.</span></span>

It's not that they don't care.
On the contrary, precisely because they care too much, they dare not lower their head.

At the moment a relationship is heading toward a break, they often appear unusually calm.
No explanations, no arguing, no clinging,
as if they quickly accept the outcome.

But that "letting go,"
is more like a rapid tightening of self-protection.

Lowering the head, in their experience,
is never just an apology.
It is a dangerous signal—
it means their self-worth begins to shake,
it means their dignity is handed to the other person,
it means that if they continue to expose themselves,
they might utterly fail.

So they choose to retreat.
Not because they won,
but because they cannot afford to lose again.

In Love

In love, people with fragile high self-esteem often give a lot.
Serious, invested, restrained yet sincere.

But once a conflict arises,
especially when being blamed or asked to "admit fault,"
their emotions quickly cool down.

They rarely argue.
More often it's silence, distance,
or even taking the initiative to end the relationship.

To outsiders, such a departure seems cold and decisive.
But only they know,
it's not that it doesn't hurt,
it's that it hurts too much to endure another self-denial.

It's not that they don't want to lower their head,
but they dare not confirm—
after lowering it,
will they still be able to stand?

At Work

At work, these people often appear reliable and strong-willed.
They can shoulder responsibilities and rarely show weakness,
even when at their limits, they prefer to handle things alone.

They can endure high intensity,
but they struggle with low dignity.

Once publicly criticized or questioned,
the inner impact
often outweighs the issue itself.

Not because they cannot handle the work,
but because, at that moment,
their self-worth is directly challenged.

So they either strive to prove themselves,
or quietly retreat.
Resign, change environments, cut connections.

On the surface it looks like a choice,
but in fact, it's still a form of defense.

Among Friends

In friendships,
people with fragile high self-esteem usually have a strong sense of boundaries.

They avoid bothering others,
and rarely expose their vulnerability.

When feeling belittled, ignored, or teased beyond limits,
they rarely confront on the spot,
and may not clarify things.

More often,
they just gradually stop approaching.

The relationship doesn't break abruptly,
it quietly cools down.

In their minds, it's not:
"Should I explain?"
but:
"No need to put myself in that position."

So, is this personality good?

Not "good," nor "bad."
It is a personality defense that was once very useful, but comes at a cost.

First, the conclusion—
Fragile high self-esteem is not a flawed personality,
but it can make intimate relationships very difficult,
and make the person themselves suffer more.

Why was it “good” once?

In certain growing environments,
this personality is actually very smart.

It keeps you from being easily trampled,
allows you to stand firm amid denial and belittlement,
teaches you to protect yourself with "dignity" and not be swallowed up.

In other words—
it's a system that helped you survive
in environments where resources were scarce and emotions unsafe.

From this perspective,
it deserves respect.

Where's the problem?

The problem is not high self-esteem,
but—
it is too fragile.

Thus, these costs arise:

• Hard to show vulnerability in love
• More likely to disconnect rather than repair in conflicts
• Emotions get stuck in "win/lose" or "higher/lower" positions

More often than not:
Dignity is preserved, but the relationship is lost

And the most hidden point—
it makes you more accustomed to bearing alone,
but less skilled at repairing together.

From outsiders vs the person's inner feelings

Outsiders see:
You are rigid, cold, self-centered.

Inside, they feel:
I have no room left to retreat.

These two perspectives are often completely misaligned.

Finally

To put it more maturely—

Fragile high self-esteem,
is not suitable for loving others,
but it is very suitable for self-protection.

And the real issue in life is:
You cannot spend your whole life
just in self-protection mode.

True growth,
is not lowering your self-esteem,
but making it no longer fragile.

Stars: 60k+
Project URL: https://github.com/anomalyco/opencode

Key Highlights

• In-terminal GUI: Unlike traditional streaming conversations, provides an editor-like experience with independent buffers and window management
• Dual-mode agents: Built-in development and planning modes covering scenarios from bug fixes to architectural analysis
• Multi-model support: Compatible with Claude, Gemini, and local models; fully supports MCP protocol with strong extensibility
• Seamless integration: Supports executing Shell commands, file searching, and built-in Vim mode for direct code editing

Installation Methods

# One-click installation
curl -fsSL https://opencode.ai/install | bash

# Homebrew installation
brew install anomalyco/tap/opencode

02 Ralph - Claude Code Automation Tool

Stars: ~1,000
Project URL: https://github.com/frankbria/ralph-claude-code

Core Functions

• Intelligent loop mechanism: Enables unattended Claude Code operation, automatically handles long task interruptions
• Exit detection: Intelligently determines task completion status, prevents infinite loops from consuming API resources
• Lightweight design: Pure Shell script implementation, zero complex dependencies, ready to use
• Cost control: Precisely controls AI working time, optimizes usage costs

Use Cases

• Large-scale code refactoring
• Automated test writing
• Documentation generation tasks
• Background AI tasks requiring extended runtime

03 Memos - Minimalist Privacy-First Notes

Stars: 52k+
Project URL: https://github.com/usememos/memos

Product Features

• Privacy-first approach: Supports self-hosting, complete data autonomy with no third-party risks
• Minimalist design: Microblog-style experience focusing on fragmented recording and idea capture
• Markdown support: Full Markdown syntax support balancing aesthetics and functionality
• Lightweight deployment: Docker one-click deployment with minimal resource consumption

Application Scenarios

• Daily log recording
• Technical inspiration notes
• Task management
• API integration with third-party workflows

04 Docker Android - Containerized Android Emulator

Stars: ~2,700
Project URL: https://github.com/HQarroum/docker-android

Technical Advantages

• No GUI dependency: No need to install full Android Studio, reduces environment configuration complexity
• Containerized isolation: Complete Android system packaged in Docker container, clean and independent environment
• Web remote control: Provides web interface for remote operation, suitable for server environments
• Quick startup: Single Docker command runs complete Android environment

Usage Scenarios

• CI/CD automated testing
• Server-side Android application execution
• Parallel testing of multiple Android versions
• Lightweight development environment setup

05 Chrome DevTools MCP Server

Stars: 20k+
Project URL: https://github.com/ChromeDevTools/chrome-devtools-mcp

Technical Innovation

• AI-powered debugging: Exposes browser developer tool data to AI models via MCP protocol
• Real-time data access: AI can read console, network requests, DOM structure, performance data, etc.
• Proactive debugging: AI no longer guesses problems but performs precise analysis based on real data
• JavaScript execution: Supports code execution verification for end-to-end problem diagnosis

Frontend Development Revolution

• Intelligent performance analysis: Identifies loading bottlenecks
• Automated error diagnosis: Detects and fixes frontend bugs
• Smart code review: Analyzes code quality based on real runtime environment

06 Vibe Kanban - AI Agent Workflow Platform

Stars: 14.5k+
Project URL: https://github.com/BloopAI/vibe-kanban

Platform Characteristics

• Visual orchestration: Kanban-style interface for managing multiple AI programming agents
• Deep GitHub integration: Automatically tracks code changes and PR status
• Parallel task processing: Supports multi-agent collaboration to improve development efficiency
• Process visualization: AI workflow completely transparent, traceable and manageable

Workflow Management

• Task card assignment: Manage AI agents like managing a team
• Automatic status updates: Agents automatically provide task progress feedback
• Code review integration: Centralized management of code output from multiple AIs
• Architecture design support: Developers focus on high-level design while coding is handled by AI

07 OpenBB - Open Source Financial Analysis Platform

Stars: 40k+
Project URL: https://github.com/OpenBB-finance/OpenBB

Data Coverage

• Full market data: Stocks, cryptocurrencies, forex, macroeconomic indicators
• Professional analysis tools: Fundamental analysis, technical analysis, sentiment analysis
• Multi-source aggregation: Integrates global free financial data sources
• Open source transparency: First open source financial terminal with completely open models and algorithms

User Groups

• Professional financial analysts
• Quantitative trading developers
• Data-driven investors
• Financial academic researchers

08 UI-TARS Desktop - AI Smart Desktop Assistant

Stars: Rapidly growing
Project URL: https://github.com/bytedance/UI-TARS-desktop

Technical Breakthroughs

• Multimodal GUI understanding: Based on visual language models, operates computers by viewing screens
• Cross-application automation: Supports multiple application scenarios including browsers and office software
• Natural language interaction: Text or voice command control, no need to learn complex scripts
• Localized operation: On-device AI capabilities ensuring privacy and response speed

Application Scenarios

• Office automation: Form filling, data processing
• Cross-application workflows: Flight booking, information organization
• GUI automation testing: UI interaction verification
• Personal efficiency assistant: Automating daily computer operations

Summary

These 8 projects represent several major trends in the 2024 open source community:

1. Maturation of AI programming assistants: From simple conversations to complete workflow support
2. Enhanced privacy and security awareness: Self-hosting and local solutions gaining popularity
3. AI integration with traditional tools: Professional scenarios like browser debugging and financial analysis becoming AI-powered
4. Deepening workflow automation: From single tasks to multi-agent collaboration and orchestration
5. Rise of on-device AI applications: Desktop-level AI assistants achieving commercial viability

Each project provides innovative solutions for specific pain points, worthy of in-depth exploration by developers and technology enthusiasts.

My hometown is no longer my hometown

This is neither a complaint nor a pose.
It feels more like a confirmation—at some unremarkable moment, I finally realized that, in a place once familiar, I had slowly become a stranger.

The streets are still those same streets; their names unchanged, their directions unchanged, even the tree at the corner still standing where it always has.
Yet when I stand there, I cannot find a place that truly belongs to me.
It is not being lost, but a tacit sense born of drifting—always feeling that nowhere is entirely my own.

In the long course of wandering, I came to realize
that no place is completely unfamiliar, and no place is ever fully familiar.

When a person has been gone long enough, a hometown begins to rewrite its own narrative.
New orders, new relationships, new layers of memory pile one upon another,
and I am merely someone who remembers an older version.

Only later did I realize
that perhaps I never truly had a hometown to begin with.

Childhood is not fixed to a single coordinate,
but cut apart, transported, and settled across several different places.
The people in those places gradually lose their memory of me,
as if I had appeared only briefly,
never long enough to be remembered.

The relatively clear memories
(merely a psychological dwelling, though in reality the people and social relations of that place may already have changed)
remain confined to the period from sixth grade to middle school.

There once stood a white magnolia before the door,
reaching high toward the sky,
like light snow feathers drifting in a summer breeze.

Now it has long since withered,
leaving only shriveled branches behind.

Yet I still remember clearly the fragrance of its blossoms,
a faint scent seeming to spill from deep within memory,
gently encircling the space before the doorway.

While other scenes gradually blur and fade,
this white magnolia remains especially vivid—
not because it mattered more than anything else,
but because it left the most vivid imprint in my memory.

Before and after that time, places kept changing,
while emotions never had time to take root.

What is called “being unable to return”
is ultimately an acknowledgment of one’s own drifting self.
I can stay anywhere,
yet find it difficult to treat any one place
as my true whereabouts.

Perhaps what truly disappeared was not the hometown,
but the self that once grew slowly in a silent corner.

And yet, gradually, I came to understand:
perhaps true belonging
does not lie in deeply rooting oneself in a single place,
but in learning to build hidden connections
among multiple shallow roots.

Like those seemingly isolated fragments of memory—
a sixth-grade classroom,
street corners in different cities,
a withered white magnolia—
deep within my neural network,
they are exchanging nourishment in ways I cannot see,
slowly growing into a new, geography-transcending inner landscape.

The “hometown” lost in the text
is quietly being rebuilt within my written sentences,
in another form.

This is not hard to understand.
By the time one reaches his age, looking back, many obsessions naturally loosen.
It is a composure gained through experience—
not a disregard for fame, but no longer being controlled by it.

I can understand this state.
But I am also aware of my own stage in life.

Before I have truly stood firm,
talking about "letting go" often feels more like self-comfort.
Reality has not yet settled, and my position is still unclear,
leaving too early would bring instability at best, and chaos at worst.

The composure of those who came before comes as a gift of time;
but at this moment, I still need to face reality head-on,
and find my own place in society.

True letting go,
should not happen before one is able to stand firm,
but only at the moment when one truly has a choice.

I finished saying this.
The old man remained silent.

In that silence,
there was neither denial nor advice,
it was as if in acknowledgment, yet also waiting.

This dream is gentle, yet also "cruel".
The cruelty lies in this: the clearer the dream's gentleness, the more absolute its "cruelty" becomes.
<span style="color: gray; font-size: 0.9em;">(What you most desire can only be created by yourself within the dream.)</span>

He said that in the dream, a stranger woman appeared before him, surrounded by a faint halo, as if a light mist hung in the air. Her gaze was gentle yet tinged with a trace of sadness.

The woman spoke: "I am the mother you lost when you were very young."
Her voice carried a soft greeting, as if saying: "How have you been? I have been waiting for you."

Then, she handed him a photograph—<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; text-decoration-thickness: 2px">a picture of him as a child</u>.

The photo appeared like an image emerging from the mist, carrying a kind of hazy warmth.
He paused for a moment and smiled bitterly: "The strange thing is, I have no memory of what I looked like as a child."

I listened, then asked after a moment of silence: "How did you feel at that moment?"

He replied softly: "It felt so real in the dream, as if someone had been watching me all along but could never reach me."

I nodded: "Perhaps that woman isn’t someone from reality, but a reminder from your subconscious—you were once seen, even if no one in reality ever told you."

The woman smiled gently, as if knowing he had grown up, no longer playing with toy helicopters, and so she brought him a bowl of his favorite century egg and lean pork congee.
Steam rose slowly, carrying the scent of home and a quiet sense of waiting—someone had been waiting for you.

He fell silent for a moment, as if digesting the possibility.
Then, he said softly: "Those things that should have belonged to me but never did—to be greeted and waited for, it turns out, feels so warm."

"Lost, not abandoned," I continued, "that wording in the dream is crucial. It helps you understand that loneliness and loss are not your fault."

<u style="text-decoration: underline dotted; text-decoration-thickness: 2px">His smile softened further: "Maybe I wasn't properly remembered in my childhood, but in the dream, she remembered for me."</u>

At that moment, I suddenly understood: this dream wasn’t deceiving him but filling a void for him—a tender corner in the heart, something no one else could fill, yet deeply yearned for.

Looking at him, a quiet sense of emotion welled up inside me: even if something is missing in reality, one can always keep a little warmth in the heart.

Sometimes, we feel as if we are missing something or being overlooked.

But dreams like this remind us: absence does not mean worthlessness, and loneliness does not mean abandonment.

Even if no one in reality remembers the small details for us, we can still keep a tender corner in our hearts, allowing ourselves to be seen and warmed.

The light in the dream, the images in the dream—perhaps they are the sense of security we’ve always longed for deep within.

Later,
you went your separate ways,
contact gradually thinning out.

The message has been sent,
but no reply ever comes.
Or perhaps the other person curiously replies once, then disappears.

This does not mean coldness or dislike;
it only means that you are no longer
in the same
life coordinates.

People often focus
on “why didn’t they reply,”

while overlooking a simple fact:

not every message
deserves to enter
someone else’s
timeline.

A casual greeting,
an old memory—

on the other end,
they merely pass by.

Some words
are already understood,

but do not generate
any need
for continued exchange.

Read but not replied
is, in essence,
an outward manifestation of
relational prioritization.

Not because they’re busy,
and not necessarily because they dislike you;

more often than not—
the priority isn’t high enough,

or what you’re talking about
simply doesn’t fall within
their current
range of interest.

When someone still occupies
a place in your heart
with the preset
of “they should reply,”

silence
begins to carry meaning.

You reread
the message you sent,
speculating about
the reply that never came,

but the disappointment
does not arise from silence itself;

it comes from
the default settings
you’ve placed on this relationship—

you are still using
past closeness
to measure
present
presence.

Now,
I stand in a corner.

Neither anxious
nor angry,

just confirming
the reality of the relationship
and the position of my own emotions.

Past warmth has dispersed;
waiting and expectation
have been diluted
by time.

I slowly draw back
the care I once extended,

affirming that the self
still stands intact,
only that the relationship’s position
has shifted.

Read but not replied
is like a mirror.

What it reflects
is not the other person’s indifference,

but whether I am still
using old understandings
to interpret
a relationship
that has already changed;

it also reflects a fact—

communication does not occur
because one speaks,

but because
what is spoken
is received.

When I no longer treat
“a reply”
as a given,

no longer assume
that certain people
“should care,”

read but not replied
returns to its original place—

a status indicator,
not an emotional event.

Many times,
a problem doesn’t need
to be solved.

It only needs
to be seen clearly.

Some people interpret
“when I write something down”
as “I care deeply,”
and then equate that with
being “sentimental” or “fragile.”
To me,
this is a psychological
and cognitive bias.

First,
writing things down
does not equal
emotional loss of control.

For me,
this piece of writing
is neither an emotional diary
nor an accusation
nor a demand for response;
it is an act of observation
and clarification.

I write these words
to lay the issue out plainly,
to confirm the reality of the relationship
and my own position within it,
not to attempt recovery,
prove anything,
or demand feedback from the other side.

Often,
putting feelings into clear words
is itself a way
to stop emotions
from continuing to spread.

Second,
caring itself
does not equal weakness.

To me,
caring is a normal mechanism
of information processing;
the difference lies only
in how it operates:

caring that is pulled along by emotion
easily turns into inner exhaustion;

whereas observing care
as a phenomenon
becomes a form of
inner order.

The caring in this piece
is placed within
a cognitive framework;
it does not govern me.

Third,
others’ interpretations
are not equivalent
to my actual psychological state.

When someone believes
“writing it out means you haven’t let go,”
that reflects more
their own understanding
of emotional expression
than my present condition.

What truly matters
is not how the outside world judges,
but whether I have
seen the facts clearly,
adjusted my expectations,
and drawn my attention
back to myself.

To me,
writing is a process
of organizing self-understanding.

When observation is expressed,
logic completes its loop,
and emotion loses
the necessity
to keep pulling.

Where the words end
is often also
where the psyche
comes to rest.

Put simply:

Writing it out
does not equal weakness;
being repeatedly driven
by emotion does.

What I write
is not attachment,
but recognition.

Someone asked: If it’s only for recording yourself, a private diary or encrypted document would suffice. So why does "老朝奉" have a website, putting articles out in the wilderness of the internet?
老朝奉 answers: Making the website public is to give ritual to the words, allowing me to face the world with a solitary stance, while leaving a door open for potential resonance, and to refine the clarity of the words under the tension of possible scrutiny.

Some people won’t click in.
It’s not that they don’t understand,
but they’re unsure if it’s worth their time.

In this hesitation,
any preconceived impression
can become a reason to give up.

But there’s another reason.
"老朝奉" The name itself makes some people uncomfortable.

It sounds too certain,
and carries a layer of elusive mystery.
This combination of authority and mystery,
even before understanding the content,
makes some people resist it from the start.

Interestingly,
in other places where "老朝奉" isn’t used as a name,
the same expression is easier to accept,
and readers accumulate more naturally.

It’s hard not to realize:
some resistance
doesn’t come from the content,
but from the posture the name conveys.

Some people feel that,
to endorse it,
would seem like admitting they are in a lower position;
while disliking it
makes them appear clear-headed, independent, unaffected.

So the easiest way,
is simply not to read, not to acknowledge, not to care.

Some come to learn certain areas of knowledge,
but there’s very little technical or tutorial content here,
so they don’t linger for long.

Some know that I have been writing here,
but they simply don’t care about the content,
nor do they have interest.
In my heart, I have to admit: we are perhaps not seeking the same scenery.

A friend of mine whom I've known for over ten years and still keep in touch with read it,
but he felt these words couldn't be mine.
Not because of a change in style,
but because in his entrenched perception,
"I" should not possess such expressive ability.
When the writing surpassed this preset notion,
he would rather doubt its origin
than update his judgment.

There are also those
who come with pre-prepared lenses.
They’re not really reading the words,
but measuring the writer by their own standards — whether the character meets their approval, or whether the economic status matches their own.
If it fails, the words are naturally not taken seriously.

This is not specifically referring to old acquaintances in my life. That pair of "pre-prepared lenses" wasn’t polished for me alone. They are built by the yellowed Daoist texts, gilded success manuals, and even the floating dust of the whole era. People just happen to put them on, looking at me, or any writer who enters their field of vision.

There are also those
who measure everything with more realistic and popular standards:
if an expression cannot bring profit,
it has no value.
In this system, if words cannot be converted into traffic, returns, or resources,
they naturally lose their meaning of existence.

I have seen all these reactions,
and I understand them.
They are not new,
they can even be said to be quite common.

Yet, when all perspectives are stacked together,
I suddenly realize a fact:
老朝奉’s writing has never existed to please others.

doesn’t try to justify itself,
doesn’t prove what it can write,
doesn’t defend its ability,
and doesn’t participate in value exchange.

is more like a record.
Recording a person who, without applause,
and without consensus,
still chooses to write down thoughts.

I am not in a hurry to defend the "lack of audience."
Being seen is certainly good,
but not being seen
does not equal nonexistence.

Some words
are simply not written for the majority.
They are more like marks left in time —
reminding oneself:
I have seen the world this way, and I have expressed myself this honestly.

If you happen to read this,
whether by chance or patience,
then these words — and the thoughts they carry — have at least accomplished one thing:
They have been understood once.

Someone asked: If it’s only for recording yourself, a private diary or encrypted document would suffice. So why does "老朝奉" have a website, putting articles out in the wilderness of the internet?
老朝奉 answers: Making the website public is to give ritual to the words, allowing me to face the world with a solitary stance, while leaving a door open for potential resonance, and to refine the clarity of the words under the tension of possible scrutiny.

As for whether there is an audience,
that has never been the premise for me to write.

罗俊鹏

《等》

三岁时，
你说让我等你五分钟。

二十三岁时，
你却还没回来。

爸，
我现在不要马路对面的冰糖葫芦了。

北岛

《一切》

一切都是命运
一切都是烟云

一切都是没有结局的开始
一切都是稍纵即逝的追寻

一切欢乐都没有微笑
一切苦难都没有泪痕

一切语言都是重复
一切交往都是初逢

一切爱情都在心里
一切往事都在梦中

一切希望都带着注释
一切信仰都带着呻吟

一切爆发都有片刻的宁静
一切死亡都有冗长的回声

《回答》

卑鄙是卑鄙者的通行证，
高尚是高尚者的墓志铭。

看吧，在那镀金的天空中，
飘满了死者弯曲的倒影。

冰川纪过去了，
为什么到处都是冰凌？

好望角发现了，
为什么死海里千帆相竞？

我来到这个世界上，
只带着纸、绳索和身影，

为了在审判之前，
宣读那些被判决了的声音：

告诉你吧，世界，
我——不——相——信！

纵使你脚下有一千名挑战者，
那就把我算做第一千零一名。

我不相信天是蓝的，
我不相信雷的回声；

我不相信梦是假的，
我不相信死无报应。

如果海洋注定要决堤，
就让所有的苦水都注入我心中；

如果陆地注定要上升，
就让人类重新选择生存的峰顶。

新的转机和闪闪的星斗，
正在缀满没有遮拦的天空，

那是五千年的象形文字，
那是未来人们凝视的眼睛。

海子

《面朝大海》

从明天起，做一个幸福的人
喂马，劈柴，周游世界

从明天起，关心粮食和蔬菜
我有一所房子，面朝大海，春暖花开

从明天起，和每一个亲人通信
告诉他们我的幸福

那幸福的闪电告诉我的
我将告诉每一个人

给每一条河
每一座山取一个温暖的名字

陌生人，我也为你祝福
愿你有一个灿烂的前程

愿你有情人终成眷属
愿你在尘世获得幸福

我只愿面朝大海，春暖花开

《我，以及其他的证人》

故乡的星和羊群
像一支支白色美丽的流水

跑过
小鹿跑过

夜晚的目光紧紧追着

在空旷的野地上，发现第一枝植物
脚插进土地
再也拔不出

那些寂寞的花朵
是春天遗失的嘴唇

为自己的日子
在自己的脸上留下伤口

因为没有别的一切
为我们作证

我和过去
隔着黑色的土地

我和未来
隔着无声的空气

我打算卖掉一切
有人出价就行

除了火种、取火的工具
除了眼睛

被你们打得出血的眼睛

一只眼睛留给纷纷的花朵
一只眼睛永不走出铁铸的城门

《单翅鸟》

单翅鸟为什么要飞呢
为什么

头朝着天地
躺着许多束朴素的光线

菩提，菩提想起
石头

那么多被天空磨平的面孔
都很陌生

堆积着世界的一半

摸摸周围
你就会捡起一块
砸碎另一块

单翅鸟为什么要飞呢
我为什么

喝下自己的影子
揪着头发作为翅膀
离开

也不知天黑了没有
穿过自己的手掌
比穿过别人的墙壁还难

单翅鸟
为什么要飞呢

肥胖的花朵
喷出水

我眯着眼睛离开
居住了很久的心和世界

你们都不醒来
我为什么
为什么要飞呢

《黑井》

我请求：雨
我请求熄灭

生铁的光
爱人的光和阳光

我请求下雨
我请求
在夜里死去

我请求在早上
你碰见
埋我的人

岁月的尘埃无边
秋天

我请求
下一场雨
洗清我的骨头

我的眼睛合上
我请求

雨
雨是一生过错
雨是悲欢离合

《写给脖子上的菩萨》

呼吸，呼吸
我们是装满热气的
两只小瓶

被菩萨放在一起

菩萨是一位很愿意
帮忙的
东方女人

一生只帮你一次

这也足够了

通过她
也通过我自己

双手碰到了你，你的
呼吸

两片抖动的小红帆
含在我的唇间

菩萨知道

菩萨住在竹林里
她什么都知道

知道今晚
知道一切恩情

知道海水是我
洗着你的眉

知道你就在我身上
呼吸

菩萨愿意
菩萨心里非常愿意

就让我出生
让我长成的身体上
挂着潮湿的你

I came home from work, and just stepped into the hallway when I heard urgent sounds coming from the neighbor's door crack.

The man's voice was low, yet heavy, rumbling through the hallway like distant thunder:

"Go get something, are your feet filled with lead?"

Then came the sound of a chair being dragged, a bit grating.
A boy, with a whimper in his voice, tried to argue softly—his voice was too small, hard to hear through the door crack.
A woman tried to intervene with a few words, attempting to calm things down, but only made the situation more chaotic.

Finally, a "bang"—
something fell to the ground, or the door was slammed shut heavily.

Suddenly, everything was quiet.

That kind of silence was even more unsettling than the earlier noise,
as if the air had suddenly grown heavy.

<div style="display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; gap: 10px; margin: 20px 0;"> <img src="https://icloud.aifsx.cn/f/mxSL/963f74081e9a593ec2b57ef5efe4229.jpg" width="300" alt="人潮往返" style="border-radius: 8px 0 8px 0;"> </div>

I took out my keys and entered my home.
The room was quiet, a cup of plain water sat on the table.
I sat down without turning on the lights.

The motion-sensor light in the hallway went out,
and darkness slowly seeped into my room.

I suddenly thought of that father—
I had seen him in the elevator during the day; he looked like a fairly gentle middle-aged man, nodding politely.
But the voice from behind the door just now sounded like a different person.

What was he angry about at that moment?

Was it that the child was moving too slowly, delaying things?
Or was it that his words went unanswered,
like throwing a stone into water, hearing no splash, only watching the ripples spread?

Maybe he wasn’t actually angry at the child.
Perhaps he had been holding something inside all along—
frustrations from work, unspoken grievances,
or the helpless irritation at many things in life.

The child's "slowness" just became the outlet.

The child looked frightened,
the wife seemed hesitant to speak,
and after the door closed, he was left alone facing that heavier, more uncomfortable silence…
He probably wasn’t feeling good either.

Think about it, which family hasn’t had moments like this?
Sudden anger, unclear emotions,
can instantly ruin what had been a relatively peaceful night.

And the real problem
is often not the small matter in front of them,
but something deeper.

I finished the cup of water and turned on the light.
The room lit up.

Next door was still quiet.
I didn’t know if the door behind them
was still tense,
or if someone had already softened, saying a few other words.

Arguments will always stop.
But some traces quietly remain.
The unseen places,
are what a home truly needs to be slowly repaired.

After sitting for a while, my thoughts returned to that neighbor’s door.

If you break down the scene just now,
it was actually tiny—
just "going to get something."

Yet, it’s precisely these moments that are easiest to spiral out of control.

In his expectation,
it should have been a simple process:
words spoken, task completed immediately.
Like flipping a switch, the light turns on.

When the feedback didn’t come promptly,
a subtle, stinging sensation surfaced—
it wasn’t that the task wasn’t done,
but that "my words didn’t take effect immediately."

At that moment, things had already started to twist.

He probably didn’t stop at
"the child was just a little slow,"
but quickly labeled the delay in his mind:

disobedient, careless,
even disrespectful.

The hesitation in action
was translated into an issue of attitude,
and the small matter was magnified
into a challenge to authority.

So, anger appeared.

But beneath the anger,
there were often other layers.

Maybe it was the frustration that hadn’t been processed during the day—
yielding all day at work, in the world,
and coming home, realizing not even a word could "move anyone."

This feeling
can easily hit the places people least want to face.

There’s also something more hidden: shame.

Realizing you "aren’t that significant,"
is hard to accept.
Facing it directly is difficult,
so it’s simpler to cover it with anger.

When his wife tried to mediate,
he might not have felt rationally pulled back, instead feeling pushed to the opposite side.

Those mediating words,
in the heat of emotion,
probably sounded more like a denial.

Layered isolation,
and the fire could no longer be contained.

Low growls, dragging chairs, slamming doors—
these actions were, on the surface, a vent, but in reality a way to reclaim
a sense of "I can still control the situation."

Sound and force
became the fastest, roughest tools.

But the moment the door closed,
it really was over.

After the tide of anger subsided,
what remained was rarely relief,
but heavier silence.

The things suppressed moments ago—
regret, fatigue, guilt—
slowly surfaced.

He knew he had overreacted,
and saw the child’s fear and the wife’s helplessness.
Yet apologies can be harder than anger,
because they require admitting one’s own vulnerability and loss of control.

He won one round of "obedience,"
but may have lost something more important.

At this point, I suddenly realized,
many family arguments
don’t actually start in the present,
but much earlier, farther back.

The helplessness from outside brought back into the home;
a home, meant to be a warm harbor,
became the place where emotions are easiest to lose control,
and most hurtful.

The door slammed shut,
separating the argument,
and temporarily blocking
understanding that could have happened.

If there’s anything that truly needs repair,
it’s never just
"who was a little slow,"
but those
things that weren’t properly seen,
and things that weren’t properly spoken.

I am like someone
Standing alone
In the center of an old house
Slanting sunlight passes through the window
Dust drifts slowly in the air
Laughter and low voices of old days
Seem still clinging to the walls
But if you listen closely—
There is only breathing
One breath after another
Echoing
<div style="display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; gap: 10px; margin: 20px 0;"> <img src="https://icloud.aifsx.cn/f/9Pcg/35693a4a79add5eecff0dc08ca5cf78.jpg" width="200" alt="人潮往返" style="border-radius: 8px 0 8px 0;"> </div> I stroke an old piece of clothing
And yesterday suddenly unfolds
Faded denim
A loosened cotton shirt
What my fingertips touch
Is not only texture
But also a certain afternoon
By the window of a café
Half a dessert pushed across the table
And that joke
Left unfinished
The clothes remain
Yet the person
Has already receded into
A softly blurred shadow
In memory

<div style="display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; gap: 10px; margin: 20px 0;"> <img src="https://icloud.aifsx.cn/f/vjCp/85c3b88b24c652a3af799a1bb2320c0.jpg" width="200" alt="人潮往返" style="border-radius: 8px 0 8px 0;"> </div>

In the contact list
There is a name
Long fallen silent
The avatar frozen in an old season
The timeline drawn into a straight line
Like a gentle
Yet resolute rest note
The conversation stops at
“See you next time”
And that next time
Sinks into the lake’s heart
Never to echo again

Passing through a familiar scent
I suddenly stop
Osmanthus just beginning to bloom
Moss after rain
Or the smoke from a small eatery
My steps slow for a moment
As if waiting
For someone beside me to say
“This smell reminds me of—”
But my side is empty
Only the wind
Passing through on its own

<div style="display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; gap: 10px; margin: 20px 0;"> <img src="https://icloud.aifsx.cn/f/OpUV/1b67f8f730d030e9fe1e33418205dce.jpg" width="200" alt="人潮往返" style="border-radius: 8px 0 8px 0;"> </div>

During festivals
Blessings pause in the input box
Some names
Make even a simple “happy”
Feel too solemn
The cursor flickers
The screen finally goes dark
The noise outside the window
Belongs to others
Here it is so quiet
You can hear
Time flowing past

The save file of a two-player game
Forever paused
Two characters
Standing face to face
Their actions unfinished
Never loaded again
Yet never deleted
It becomes amber on a hard drive
Sealing away
An aimless afternoon
Once shared

Scrolling past an interesting video
My finger hovers over the share button
The impulse gently extinguished
It is quietly saved instead
Stored away
In a folder only I can see
The person who should have received it
Is no longer
On the other end of the list

Old friends
Are the imprints left on the shore
After the tide has receded
You know
The waves once reached here
And you also know
The tide does not stay for anyone
You simply stand
And watch
Until a new tide
Comes in—
Creeping over your ankles
Slightly cold

This is new water now.

<div style="display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; gap: 10px; margin: 20px 0;"> <img src="https://icloud.aifsx.cn/f/DDT0/765bd5220d304929f019230bfcdd774.jpg" width="200" alt="人潮往返" style="border-radius: 8px 0 8px 0;"> </div>

The pangolin tells the earthworm:
"The best way to break through the earth is with sturdy armor and sharp claws."
The tiger tells the earthworm:
"The secret to successful hunting lies in sharp teeth and an agile form."
The coyote tells the earthworm:
"A more stable life comes from teamwork and cooperation."
The spider tells the earthworm:
"A happy life stems from careful planning and thoughtful arrangement."

The earthworm arches its body, trampling its own path into the footprints of others—
Wearing its skin thin like the pangolin, tensing its body like the tiger,
Standing in the coyote’s formation as a lonely line, calculating every step like the spider in its web.
It lives in constant learning and effort,
Pouring all its strength into every path others have pointed out.

Until one damp dusk, rain soaks all the duplicated footprints,
It suddenly falls into a lucid dream in that moist soil—
The more it imitated others in reality, the clearer it saw its own reflection in the dream.
“The more I learned,” the more winding its own path became.
Every borrowed truth turned into an unnecessary “ridge” in its soul.

So it releases the imitation held taut for half a lifetime,
Retreating to that original warm darkness.
There, no legends or victory reports, no medals or praises—
Only the innate softness, pulsing in the silence like a newborn heart.
Yet it still waits, waiting for a destined encounter.

Later, with no other choice, it could only believe in fate,
Believing that only through that seemingly accidental fungal kiss could it transform into cordyceps—
Only after death, after vanishing, after losing itself,
Could it be endowed with some kind of value that could be priced.

It was always a complete circle: tiny advances, silent deep cultivation,
Leaving beneath all things pores through which the world may breathe.
But it almost forgot—living in someone else’s world, you will never meet yourself.

The entire soil whispers in the silence after the rain:
“You need not become any metaphor.
When you cease imitating the shape of lightning,
The earth will finally recognize your one-of-a-kind footprints—”

In our modern digital lives, everyone has likely had this experience: You distinctly remember saving a contract, an old photo, or a project report on your computer, but upon opening Windows' built-in search tool, the progress bar crawls with agonizing slowness. Those few minutes spent waiting for results feel like stolen time, leaving you utterly lost in a chaotic sea of files.

The arrival of Everything aims to end this inefficient norm. Developed by David Carpenter, this free and open-source software has completely rewritten the rules of Windows file search with its revolutionary speed and minimalist design. Its core philosophy is simple: when you want to find a file, it should appear before your eyes "instantly."

I. The Secret to Speed: Behind Millisecond Response

How fast is Everything? Upon its first launch after installation, it can index millions of files within a minute. For every subsequent search, the results list refreshes almost simultaneously as you type, achieving a millisecond-level response time.

The secret to this speed lies in its unique working principle. Unlike Windows Search, which laboriously scans file contents, Everything leverages the NTFS file system's "Master File Table (MFT)." The MFT acts like a directory ledger for the hard drive, recording the names and paths of all files. Everything simply reads this ledger quickly to build its own index database, without needing to open a single file. This lightweight indexing method results in typically less than 10MB of memory usage and negligible CPU consumption during runtime, truly making it "present yet unnoticeable."

Important to note: Everything's lightning-fast capability primarily targets hard drive partitions using the NTFS file system. Its support for older or external FAT32/USB drives, etc., is limited, and search speeds can drop significantly.

II. From Novice to Expert: Powerful Search Syntax

Everything's interface is extremely simple, consisting only of a search box and a results list. However, within this simple box lies a powerful and precise search grammar. Mastering it transforms your experience from "finding a needle in a haystack" to "precision-guided targeting."

1. Basic Search

• Keyword Search: Directly enter any word from the filename, like annual report, and all files and folders containing that word are instantly listed.
• Multi-condition "AND" Search: Separate multiple keywords with a space to indicate all must be present. For example, project budget xlsx can quickly locate relevant spreadsheets.
• Multi-condition "OR" Search: Connect keywords with a vertical bar | to indicate any one of them. For example, *.jpg|*.png finds all JPG and PNG images in one go.

2. Advanced Precise Targeting

When basic searches are still too broad, you can use more precise syntax to filter results directly by file properties. The following table summarizes some of the most practical advanced syntax:

Additionally, Everything supports wildcards (* for any characters, ? for a single character) and regular expressions, catering to the complex needs of programmers and technical users.

III. More Than Search: Underrated Practical Features

Everything's role extends far beyond a quick launcher; it integrates multiple practical features that enhance overall productivity.

• Real-time Monitoring & Synchronization: The software runs quietly in the background, monitoring any changes to files (creation, renaming, deletion) in real-time and instantly updating its index, ensuring search results are always current.
• HTTP/ETP Server: This is a "game-changer" feature. You can enable the HTTP server within Everything, set a port, and then any phone, tablet, or other computer on the same local network can remotely search and access files on your computer by entering your PC's IP address in a browser, easily enabling cross-device file sharing.
• File Preview & Batch Operations: Enable the "Preview" pane from the View menu to directly preview the contents of images, text files, and even Office documents. Search results support direct drag-and-drop operations, and you can select all results for batch copying, moving, or deletion.
• High Customizability: You can customize the interface font and colors, add shortcuts (e.g., set Alt+Space to summon the search box instantly), save specific searches as bookmarks, or add private folders you don't want indexed to an exclusion list.

IV. Practical Applications: Who Needs Everything?

It's safe to say that almost all Windows users can benefit, but the experience enhancement is particularly significant for the following groups:

1. Office Workers & Content Creators: Computers are filled with numerous documents, design drafts, and video assets. Simple keyword combinations can instantly locate historical versions of files.
2. Programmers & Researchers: Project files can number in the tens of thousands. Everything allows for rapid navigation through source code, library files, and configuration documents, making it an essential development environment tool.
3. "Zen" File Managers: If you're tired of complex folder classification, you can fully adopt the "Everything strategy"—dump all files haphazardly. Just remember a keyword or two to retrieve any file in seconds when needed, completely freeing yourself from the anxiety of organization.

V. Acquisition, Installation, and Precautions

Everything is completely free software. The safest way to obtain it is to visit its official website (voidtools.com) for download. The installation process is straightforward, but here are a few suggestions:

• Grant Administrator Privileges: Upon first run, it's advisable to allow it to run its service with administrator rights to ensure indexing of all disks and optimal performance.
• Choose Startup on Boot: Let it reside in the background. Its resource footprint is minimal, yet it ensures it's always ready.
• Regarding Content Search: Everything's strength lies in filename search. Although newer versions support the content: syntax for searching inside files, its efficiency is not high. For deep text searches within documents, it should be paired with specialized tools like AnyTXT Searcher.

In an era of information overload, time is the most valuable resource. Everything, in an elegant and efficient manner, solves the most fundamental and frustrating problem in file management: "finding." It's like adding a high-speed index to your computer's memory, making all files truly accessible at your fingertips. As one programmer user put it: "My computer has hundreds of thousands of code files, and Windows search has long been paralyzed. With Everything, all results are listed in 0.5 seconds. I can't work without it."

Spending a few minutes downloading and adapting to it will repay you with countless hours of efficiency and peace of mind in the future. This might just be the most profitable "efficiency investment" you can make today.

Official Website: Download

As another year draws to a close, today, after adjusting the final pixel of my blog's theme and gazing at its serene, minimalist interface, I suddenly realized this digital haven has accompanied me through yet another cycle of seasons. I spent some time, like organizing a bookshelf, browsing through the 23 articles from this year. I discovered they clearly bear the marks of two parallel paths: one leading deep into servers and command lines, the other meandering through the streets alive with the hum of daily life and the crevices of thought and emotion.

A Digital Amphibian's Record

This year, I wrote a total of 23 articles—not too many, not too few, mirroring the natural rhythm of life itself. These writings roughly fall into two categories: 11 entries of "Human Observation", akin to a journal of the soul, capturing fleeting emotions and reflections; and 8 pieces of "Technical Notes", which serve as my toolkit, documenting methods and thought processes for solving specific problems.

This categorization wasn't deliberate but emerged naturally, reflecting my dual existence. By day, I might wrestle with server failures and buggy code; by night, I immerse myself in inner quiet, pondering questions with no standard answers.

August marked an interesting turning point. I published my first video, "The Sound of Waves Remains". The rippling water and familiar melody in the footage captured the feeling of that moment in a way different from words. It was as if, from that point on, my blog ceased to be solely a territory of text and began to embrace more diverse forms of expression.

The True Reflection of a Creative Rhythm

Examining my creative rhythm reveals an intriguing pattern: I was far more active in the second half of the year than the first. Particularly in August and October, several articles were born, while a long stretch of silence lay between March and July.

That silence wasn't idle time but a period of life's own sedimentation. During those days without written words, I might have been experiencing the "despair" mentioned in an article or relishing the satisfaction after solving a technical challenge. The blog's rhythm, it turns out, so truthfully mirrors the undulations of life.

I've paid special attention to reader habits and noticed a growing number of old friends visiting via RSS subscriptions and direct access, while casual visitors from search engines are decreasing. This warms my heart—in this era of fragmented information, some still choose to regularly visit this little corner, to think and solve problems alongside me.

The Quiet Revolution of Minimalist Design

This very December, I undertook to modify my blog's theme. It wasn't the first time, but it was perhaps the most thorough.

I removed all unnecessary social sharing buttons, complex sidebar widgets, and even simplified article categories and tags. I chose clearer fonts, more comfortable spacing, and more restrained color schemes. After countless nights of debugging, performance testing tools told me it achieved perfect scores in loading speed, accessibility, and best practices.

This is more than a technical optimization; it's a declaration of attitude. I grew weary of the noise and extravagance of the internet, wanting only to preserve what is most essential: the texture of words, the flow of thought, the record of what's real.

In the Forest of Blogs

Through blogroll links, I quietly visit the blogs of many fellow travelers. Some meticulously document "Urban Bird Observations" throughout the year, some persistently update "Philosophy Reading Notes," others share "The Process of Woodworking." We all seem to have independently chosen "slow media," stubbornly guarding spaces for deep thought in an age obsessed with rapid consumption.

Some blogs I frequently visited this year:

雅余 | 张洪Heo | 轻雅阁 | 老街里

Each visit feels like a quiet conversation. Seeing them record life and share reflections in their own ways reminds me that in this digital world, many are still carefully cultivating their own spiritual homes.

A Digital Avatar

This blog has now truly become my "digital avatar."

It remembers how I solved those thorny technical problems; it archives my discoveries, and candidly holds my confusions and regrets.

Sometimes I wonder, if someone years from now were to understand me through these writings, what kind of person would they see? A modern individual constantly switching between code and poetry, a pragmatic yet romantic contradiction, an ordinary person striving to maintain a sense of authenticity in the digital world.

This is precisely why I cherish this blog—it doesn't cater to algorithms, doesn't chase trends, it only honestly records the thoughts and growth of an ordinary person against the backdrop of a specific era.

Three Seeds for 2026

Standing at the junction of old and new, I have no grand plans, only a wish to plant a few small seeds:

1. Deepening Content: Perhaps I'll start a "Monthly Human Observation" series, more consciously recording subtle changes around me. For technical notes, I hope to make them more systematic, like compiling a "Personal Server Operations Guide."

2. Experimenting with Form: Considering recording audio versions for some articles. Text has its rhythm, sound has its warmth. I'm curious how different mediums might alter expression.

3. Connecting Community: While not pursuing bustle, I hope to establish sincere exchanges with more like-minded bloggers. Perhaps I'll try writing a couple of "blog interviews," documenting how these digital-era craftspeople think and create.

Finally, I recall the line I wrote at the beginning of the year: "There is a kind of gap: You are not worthy of your own ambitions, yet you have also betrayed all the suffering." Looking back now at year's end, I may still not be worthy of my ambitions, but at least I haven't betrayed those honest records.

In 2026, may my digital garden continue to grow, blooming with more genuine flowers at the intersection of code and poetry.

1997 Munich "HIStory" Concert - BillieJean

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