It’s been almost 20 days since I returned to China, and the evening rush hour on Beijing’s Third Ring Road can still make people feel nervous. The neon signs outside the window were so bright that they formed a sea of light. The Meituan guy was riding his bike through the traffic, as fast as double speed. Amidst all the noise, the night in Pyongyang always pops up in my mind – the kind of silence that is so dark that even the slightest sound can be swallowed up.
Before going to North Korea, I had the same idea as everyone else. I thought the place was mysterious and a bit scary. I came here because of the company's technical cooperation work and stayed in Pyongyang for three months. Without the Internet, without drinking and socializing, my life is cleaner than a blank slate. But it's this cleanliness that makes all the details that couldn't be seen clearly through the screen clearly laid out in front of you.
Today I won’t talk nonsense, but I will talk about the heart-wrenching real things that I witnessed and experienced there.
1. Their time is not used in exchange for money, but used for practical purposes.
When I first got there, the thing that scratched my head the most was the efficiency – so slow that you lose your temper.
I remember one time when a core part of a piece of equipment in the factory was broken and I was in a hurry to replace it. If this were done in the country, from placing the order to installing it, it would take a day. But over there, just such a small part took a whole week to make.
The parts finally arrived. I picked up the tools and wanted to get started, thinking about finishing them quickly. Lao Jin, who was in charge of the docking, grabbed me and still had that unhurried smile on his face: "Gong Li, don't worry, let's hold a mobilization meeting first."
I almost thought I heard it wrong – a pep rally is required to tighten a screw?
The meeting really started. All twenty workers were called together, sat on small benches, and listened to the leader read a document for almost an hour. The content had nothing to do with technology. It was all about how glorious the task was and what kind of loyalty it had to be completed with. Every word was as solemn as announcing a major event.
After the meeting, I thought I could finally get started. When I looked at my watch, it was lunch time. Everyone, even me, who was so anxious, was "pulled" to the cafeteria. I told Lao Jin, can’t we spend ten minutes finishing it before eating? He patted me on the shoulder and said something that made me stunned for a long time: "Gong Li, the work is endless. If you finish these today, there will be new ones tomorrow. It is also your duty to eat on time."
I looked at his calm expression, and my anger suddenly disappeared. Here, we rush to grab time, grab time to exchange for money, and exchange money to live a better life. But here, there are no rewards for being fast and no penalties for being slow. Everyone's position and rhythm seem to have been determined long ago. Their "stability" is the kind of "softness" that makes you unable to use all your strength. You jump around in a hurry, but you look like an out-of-place fool.
Later, I learned the lesson, so I stood on the sidelines and watched, watching five or six of them gathering together to do a job that could be done by one person. Listening to them shouting neat chants, the anxiety in my heart was slowly replaced by a kind of absurd calmness. Tell me, are we tired of people who are chased by deadlines, or are we tired of people like them who are slowly wandering on a fixed track? I really can't tell.
2. A Chinese cigarette will not bring you gratitude, but will bring you hot self-esteem.
In North Korea, when men interact with each other, cigarettes are the stepping stone.
I brought a few Chinese cigarettes, originally thinking of smoking them to satisfy my craving. Unexpectedly, the cigarette became the most powerful microscope, illuminating the tight things in their bones.
Once I took a car on a project and the driver was Xiao Pu, a very energetic young man. While resting on the road, I handed him a piece of Chinese medicine. He took it without hurrying, put it under his nose and took a deep breath. His eyes lit up for a moment, and then he quickly took it back. His eyes were clearly mixed with desire and restraint.
He smoked very cherishedly, holding a puff of cigarette in his mouth. It took him a long time to spit it out, and then he sighed sincerely: "It's really good."
After smoking, he was obviously uncomfortable and always felt that he owed me something. After touching my body for a long time, I took out a box of crumpled local cigarettes called "Lingming". He took out one and handed it to me. His tone was a little unnatural: "Gong Li, try ours. The taste…maybe a bit strong."
I took it and ordered it, my dear, it tasted really strong, like burning dried leaves mixed with soil. It made my throat tighten and I almost coughed out. Xiao Pu kept staring at me nervously, his fingers tightly holding the seam of his trousers, and it was obvious that he was very nervous.
I took a quick puff, endured the discomfort, gave a thumbs up and said, "It's strong enough! This smoke is solid!"
With just such a word, his shoulders suddenly relaxed, a big, somewhat honest smile appeared on his face, and his waist straightened unconsciously. At that moment, I felt quite uncomfortable. They are short of things, they are really short of things, but compared with material things, they are more afraid of being looked down upon by others, and they are more afraid of losing the thin face that is supported by the dignity of the country. You give them a little favor, and they will try their best to give you something in return, a piece of candy, a handful of peanuts, or a firmer handshake the next time you meet. This kind of careful equal exchange protects something more valuable than materials.
3. The house allocated for free has hidden doors and windows that cannot be seen
I always hear people say that North Korea has good welfare and houses are allocated by the state. Because of my work, I was fortunate enough to visit the home of a middle-level cadre.
The house was either a shiny new apartment like those shown on TV, or a rather old tube building. The corridor was dark and the elevator was parked all year round. I climbed seven floors to get to his house.
The house is shockingly clean, the floor is polished so brightly that people can be seen in it, the old furniture is arranged neatly, and the portrait of the leader hangs in the middle of the room. But it was really cold in that room. It was just late autumn at that time, and the coldness in the room was getting deep into the bones. The whole family was wearing thick cotton clothes and moving around in the room.
I caught a glimpse of something on the balcony covered with a cloth, with a corner exposed. It was a solar panel. The owner explained a little embarrassedly that there were frequent power outages at night, so he had to rely on this solar panel to store some electricity for his children to do their homework at night.
When we talked about the house, I casually asked: "If I am not satisfied with this house, can I change it?"
The host was stunned for a moment, with an expression as if I were asking "Can a person change his head?" He said matter-of-factly: "This is distributed by the country based on contribution. It is very fair. Why do you need to change it?"
These three words, "Exceptionally fair", made me unable to say a word. Our anxiety comes from too many choices—mortgage, school district, location. Every choice is overwhelming. And their "stability" comes from having no choice at all. There is no pressure of mortgage, but at the same time, there is no possibility of improving life, not even the freedom of having hot water shower at any time.
Sitting in that cold and quiet living room, but full of family laughter, I felt a strong sense of fragmentation in my heart. Their happiness is simple and real; our troubles are complex and specific. Which side is the safe shore? It seems like there is a vast sea on both sides, with no end in sight.
4. The deep well of information, and the eyes at the bottom looking toward the sky
For me, the most difficult thing there was the lack of information. My mobile phone turned into a useless brick. In the first few days, I felt as if I had broken a precept and felt uncomfortable all over.
The local young people are different. They have an internal network of light. Once, I was chatting with several young translators. They all graduated from top universities and they were all very smart.
A young man named Jin Zhe asked me secretly: "Teacher Li, does China no longer use cash? Can you pay by touching your phone?" I showed him the Alipay interface (although I didn't have an Internet connection and couldn't see it in real time). He looked like he was watching a science fiction movie, his fingers carefully sliding around on the screen, his eyes full of curiosity.
He asked another question that shocked me: "So… how much can an ordinary young person earn in a month?" I gave him an approximate number, and they quickly calculated. Then you looked at me and I looked at you, and they all took a breath – that number sounded like a myth to them.
At this time, the older team leader spoke, with a self-consoling relief in his tone: "However, the houses where you live are ridiculously expensive, and medical treatment is not easy, right? The pressure must be very high. We are better off, these countries are in charge."
I nodded without refuting him. They looked at us like we were looking at a group of lunatics dancing on a cliff with mountains of gold on their backs; we looked at them like we were looking at a group of plants in a greenhouse that didn't know how cold it was outside. But in fact, no one is a madman, and no one is a plant. They are just covered by different glass covers. They can see each other, but cannot enter each other's world.
Before leaving, I gave Jin Zhe an old USB flash drive full of Chinese movies and songs. When he took it, his hands were shaking. He quickly clenched it and stuffed it into his underwear pocket. He looked around and said to me in a low voice: "Brother, this is more precious than anything else." I will never forget the fire in his eyes in my life – it was not just curiosity, but desire. It was the most urgent yearning for the complex and vivid world outside the iron curtain.
5. The cold noodles at Yuryu Restaurant and the black smoke by the Datong River
The farewell banquet was held at the famous Okryu Pavilion, and the meal was Pyongyang cold noodles. The noodles are really chewy, the soup is refreshing, there are singing and dancing performances during the meal, and the waiters wear bright clothes and have standard smiles.
I accidentally looked out the window. On the bridge over the Datong River, an old truck broke down. It was emitting thick black smoke and a group of people were shouting slogans to push the truck. Their clothes were gray, and compared to the brightly colored cups and plates in the window, they were separated by a layer of transparent glass, but they seemed like two completely different worlds.
My colleague Lao Zhang came over to clink glasses with me and asked me, "When you go back, will you miss this place?"
I swirled the Datongjiang beer in my cup, and the foam slowly dissipated. I said, "I will think about it. I will miss the tranquility here, and the look on people's faces that has not been gnawed by anxiety. But if I were to stay here for a long time, I wouldn't be able to bear it – our souls have long been taken away by the bustling world in China."
As the train passed the Yalu River Bridge and the overwhelming lights and noise from Dandong came over, my eyes actually felt sore.
These three months were like waking up from a dream after a deep anesthesia. It really tells me: Don’t sympathize with them with a sense of superiority, and don’t use a romantic filter to beautify that lack. Their difficulties are concrete, a mouthful of hot water, a kilowatt-hour of electricity, and a pack of good cigarettes; their happiness is also concrete, a collective singing, a commendation for completing a task, and a word of recognition from foreigners.
The choices, conveniences and hustle and bustle we have, everything is marked with a price, which makes people unable to sleep; the stability, simplicity and slowness they have, everything has a closed door, trapping the wings of imagination.
To put it bluntly, there is no heaven or hell in this world, there are only trains running on different tracks. On this trip, I accidentally opened the window of another train and watched the different scenery for a while.
Now that I am back on my own track, I have begun to run forward non-stop again, but those days of "slowing down" are like a small thorn hidden in my heart. Whenever I am overwhelmed by mortgage loans and KPIs, it pricks me gently – not for anything else, just to remind me: Brother, the freedom you have now to be busy and anxious, but many people over there don't even dare to think about it.
