Yanwen’s blog

There’s certainly more to what the next four years could hold under Trump. One can’t fully prepare for the unpredictability that often accompanies his leadership.

A Chinese saying offers some perspective at times like this: 乱哄哄你方唱罢我登场 (luàn hōng hōng, nǐ fāng chàng bà, wǒ dēng chǎng), which means, "In a chaotic whirl, as soon as your song ends, I take the stage." It captures the unceasing drama of political life, where one leader’s turn is quickly followed by another’s. However dramatic Trump’s entrance, in four years, the stage will be set for someone else.

Not long ago, Chinese social media was flooded with the story of a young woman who shared her final journey to Switzerland for euthanasia after a lost battle with lupus. This story spread quickly, reaching me through family, friends in Beijing, and my high school and college groups. 

Her father traveled with her and would return with her ashes. His choice to support her wish for euthanasia, despite the emotional cost, adds a profound sadness to her story. His presence reflects a compassionate role, underscoring the emotional toll on loved ones who accompany someone to their end. This journey was undoubtedly agonizing for him—fulfilling her wish while confronting the heartbreaking reality of losing his child.

Though rare, her decision to choose euthanasia, document and share it publicly may have been an attempt to raise awareness of the severe pain and limitations lupus can bring, or perhaps to find comfort in a virtual community during her final days. Or perhaps it reveals her deep-harbored desire to be understood and remember. Or simply to connect with as many as possible in her last moments. Drawing a virtual audience to witness her experience, she also opened a broader conversation about chronic illness, euthanasia, and personal autonomy.

A Chinese saying, “雁过留声, 人过留名" (Yàn guò liú shēng, rén guò liú míng), which translates to “As a wild goose flies by, it leaves a call; as a person passes, they leave their name." This saying emphasizes the idea that just as geese leave echoes when they pass, people also leave behind their legacy or reputation, so when they leave this world, people still remember them. It also implies a reminder to live a life that leaves a positive mark or influence, as our actions and character will be remembered long after we’re gone. To leave her name behind, perhaps that's what was in her mind.

By sharing her story in real time, rather than reflecting privately, she invited the world to see and feel her journey. This immediate, digital narrative brought a rawness and urgency that would be lost in a retrospective account.

Her courageous choice sparked widespread discussion on Chinese social media about her decision.

From a parent’s perspective, supporting a child in this choice may be the ultimate act of love and empathy, despite being one of the deepest heartbreaks. While his daughter is now free from suffering, the father must bear the weight of her absence and the memories of her struggle. This is an enduring form of grief—a loss that offers no resolution. Parents hope to see their children grow, flourish, and find happiness, so losing a child, especially in such a way, creates a void that nothing can fill.

This transition—from being a parent to facing life without his child—is a unique form of ultimate loss, leaving him in a painful state of “un-parenting” and a vacancy that defies words.

In honoring his daughter’s choice and standing by her to the very end, this father showed remarkable strength and acceptance. His presence in her final moments speaks to a love that embraces even the most painful goodbye.

Election Day has arrived, and with it, a palpable tension felt nationwide and beyond.

Yesterday, we stocked up on groceries, preparing to stay home today and tomorrow. As early as October 17, we began hearing about the potential for post-election unrest in D.C. “The threat of political violence will likely hang over the nation’s capital in the weeks following Election Day,” security experts warn, noting that despite heightened precautions, concerns linger about another incident like January 6.

In the face of such an intensely polarized climate, law enforcement officials are on high alert for possible violent reactions to the election outcome. Prepared measures include increased patrols, enhanced protection for key public figures, and close coordination with local agencies to respond swiftly to any flashpoints.

This caution stems from the possibility of a delayed vote count, especially in a close race. If one candidate seems to lead initially, only to lose as mail-in ballots are counted, some may misinterpret the shift as fraud, leading to heightened tensions.

Meanwhile, retailers and businesses have taken proactive steps to secure their storefronts, bracing against possible vandalism or looting. Although officials aim to avoid escalation, they are prepared to respond to incidents that could stem from charged political rhetoric or online misinformation, which could trigger isolated or “lone wolf” incidents.

In moments like these, a Chinese saying best captures the sense of tension and caution in DC right now: "草木皆兵" (cǎo mù jiē bīng). It means "every tree and bush looks like a hidden enemy soldier." It describes people under extreme tension imagine enemies lurking everywhere, conveying a heightened state of alertness and a readiness to respond to perceived threats—a fitting parallel to the current tense atmosphere around the election.

Zooming out, while tensions simmer locally, the world is collectively holding its breath. America’s election has far-reaching consequences, affecting global markets, trade dynamics, geopolitical alliances, and the stability of key regions like Western Europe and Asia. Depending on the outcome, we could witness everything from escalated trade conflicts to changes in Western European security strategies, especially in war zones.

As leaders across the globe, particularly in Western Europe and Asia, watch closely, it’s clear that changes in American leadership could either ease or intensify global tensions, shifting alliance, markets, especially with key players in Asia.

I recently read an article, Spain Opens Its Doors to China as a European Trade War Looms, which discussed Spain's strategy of opening up to Chinese investment. 

At first, I didn’t find it particularly newsworthy—until a friend mentioned the other day that she had gone shopping at TJ Max and noticed plenty of items still labeled "made in China." She commented that trade between China and the U.S. clearly hasn’t slowed down.

According to the article, Spain is positioning itself as a "connector" country, attracting Chinese investment by staying neutral on European tariffs for electric vehicles. This strategy allows Spain to strengthen its economic ties with China amid rising Western tensions. Similar to Mexico and Vietnam, connector countries provide Chinese firms with indirect access to the U.S. market by helping them bypass import duties.

This emerging approach seems to be part of a broader trend among nonaligned countries like Spain to leverage their neutrality, using their status as trade bridges to attract Chinese investment. Spain’s decision to abstain from the EU vote on tariffs for Chinese electric cars underscores its intent to deepen economic relations with China, despite tensions with the West.

Connector countries have seen rapid growth in Chinese trade and investment, benefiting from job creation, infrastructure projects, and manufacturing expansion. By offering Chinese companies indirect access to the U.S. market, these nations are emerging as key players in global trade, sidestepping tariffs and bolstering their own economies.

However, Spain’s stance, while advantageous to itself, diverges from the EU’s unified policies on China. With the U.S. election approaching, countries like Spain could face increasing pressure in the form of stronger tariffs and trade restrictions. They might encounter repercussions for facilitating trade in ways that sidestep sanctions.

I think of a Chinese verse, "山穷水尽疑无路，柳暗花明又一村"  (shān qióng shuǐ jìn yí wú lù, liǔ àn huā míng yòu yī cūn). This translates roughly to "When the mountains and rivers seem blocking all the way forward, willows and flowers appear, opening to another village." It describes the situation where things seem impossible or all paths seem blocked, new opportunities often emerge unexpectedly. It's similar to the saying when the door closes, the window opens.

Finally, reflecting on my friend’s observation about "made in China" items, it seems likely that connector countries like Spain are contributing to the continued flow of Chinese goods into Western markets.

My children arranged our Thanksgiving vacation in Paris and London, encouraging us to do some homework on what we wanted to see there. At my son’s place, I remember spotting A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway—a book about his years in Paris. Intrigued, I picked it up last weekend.

Hemingway wrote about his life in Paris in his twenties from 1921 to 1926, and I had read excerpts of it back when I was around the same age. Some passages have stayed with me ever since.

He describes how, when facing writer’s block, he would tell himself, "All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.” From there, he found it easier to write the next true sentence, whether it was something he knew, saw, or heard. If he strayed into ornamentation, he’d cut it away, adhering to what he called “good and severe discipline.”

This struck me as sound advice for journalists. Yet, while Hemingway was writing fiction, my experience as a journalist has shown me a different reality. Even now, I appreciate his advice—but I know it’s not always feasible in every situation.

Here's one of these moments from life I’ve been thinking about lately. My sister shared that her husband’s tumor grew worse before stabilizing with a new treatment. He told her he hoped to live at least into his 80s, so he could spend more time with their 26-year-old son. My sister commented, "He didn’t even mention me."

Perhaps he feels an urgency to pass on his legacy, to share father-son moments he missed when his son was young. Or maybe he sees his relationship with his son as unfinished, feeling he still has a role to play as a father. I wondered if a more thoughtful approach might have been saying he wished to spend more time with both his son and his wife.

A Chinese saying goes, “少年夫妻老来伴”(Shào nián fū qī, lǎo lái bàn), "Young couples become old companions." The saying emphasizes the lifelong companionship between spouses. It underscores the idea that as couples grow older, they come to rely on each other even more for companionship.

I understood my sister’s feeling of being overshadowed, but I said nothing. What would Hemingway say if he were in my position? Would he tell the truest sentence—the one that expressed both his longing and her quiet hurt -- or leave it at that?