Li LanXiang

When I was young, I used to imagine a life of adventures and conquest, like one that often appeared in those ancient myths that my mother used to recite to me before bed. It should be the story of a warrior combating vicious invaders, like General Liguang or Huoqubing, winning their nation's power and glory, and protecting their people from outer threats. What a magnificent life that would be! A life that would go down in history and be remembered forever. It should be a life of accomplishment, a life that I would live through with the utmost passion and elation in every minute and second.

You are probably expecting a heroic narrative. But the truth is, I ended up as a domestic worker in Shenzhen, a trivial occupation that is anything but grand. What terrified me at that instant, was that I realized that I was fine with the job. And that perhaps I even like it. I have a fine pay from my employer that would support my life with enough necessities and maybe even some disposable income that I could choose to save or spend. She is a lovely person, and so are her children. And my daily routine is nothing particularly challenging. My friends who are also domestic workers used to complain to me: Lan, this was no easy job! Not at all, you would work all day, with harsh tasks and picky inspectors. What's more, you end up having a pathetic amount of wage that is barely enough to support your life, especially if your family also relies on you. I knew that this was the situation for various domestic workers in my hometown, and I sympathized with them for their pitiful encounter.

But a simple consolation was all that I could give because what they described was nothing like my life. My work seemed so much more jovial and comfortable in comparison with theirs: I lived with the family in their villa, and as I provided the three meals for them, I was also allowed to enjoy them myself. During the day, I would arrange the decorations within the building; taking care of tulips, daisies, and roses in vases, and would put them all around the living room, bedrooms, and kitchen. I received mail and deliveries and enjoyed spending my afternoon feeding the amber, gold, and crimson-colored fish in the pond. I have a sufficient amount of leisure time at night, which I would choose to read the daily news from my phone. As mentioned previously, I maintained an amiable relationship with my employer, my salary increased every year, and at least from what she told me, they were satisfied with my detailed work. The family trusts me fully and never raised awareness against me with their money and valuables.

There was a time, however, when I felt a slight guilt for the benefits that I had received. Don't get me wrong, I didn't commit any crime that would betray my employer. It was when my husband and I had a big quarrel over my job.

I have five children back in ZhanJiang, they were all well-married and most of them already started their own families. They supported me with my job, and once a year I would have a chance to unite with them in the spring festival. I would miss them sometimes after a long day of work but knowing that they lived well and safely gave me some reassurance. However, my other acquaintances in ZhanJiang did not maintain such a good relationship with me anymore. I knew, from time to time, that they would gossip behind me about my privileges in Shenzhen and suspect with no reason but jealousy that perhaps I married someone here who would provide me with a life. I rolled my eyes as my friends told me the gossip, and never cared until my husband also suspected that the absurd gossip was real. After that, we didn't talk to each other for a long time, and I realized what a lucky and privileged job I must possess for such a gossip to be created. But I chose to stay, and the gossip began to fade as time went on.

I often wondered if I made the right choice. Is that what I'm going to do for the rest of my life? It was at these instants that I panicked about my decisions. What about the adventures, the adversities, and the calamities that I would have to face and conquer to grow as a person? Why am I so satisfied? I often felt that my life was like a vacant flat road that I could easily predict what was going to happen to me after each step I took. The views from my bedroom window were repetitive every day, although it was also often beautiful and serene.

It was my family that finally brought me to reconcile with my struggle. I remember it was the spring festival, and I took the high-speed railway back to Zhanjiang to meet with my Children. It was not a long journey, and I saw the river flowing tenderly in the direction of my hometown. As I arrived at the city, I saw my daughter and my daughter-in-law waving at me, holding my grandson in their arms: Mother, here! Happy Chinese New Year! She laughed brightly. We took a car ride home to meet with my other sons and daughters. I smiled as I hugged them all.

We spent the rest of the day decorating our house with red scrolls of beautiful cursives and scarlet lanterns that we hung up on our ceiling. We didn't have a big house, but it was cozy and warm and filled with laughter. My children insisted on preparing all the meals on New Year's Eve and told me that I should make myself comfortable with the television and the snacks. I laughed and after several rounds of debates committed to their plans both reluctantly and secretly pleased that they cared about me so much.

During the evening it began to snow, my grandsons took me outside and wanted me to build a snowman with them. They were adorable, and we enjoyed our time in the snow until the meal was finally ready. When I returned home, I discovered that every one of them was sweaty and tired, but the smell and look of the meals enlightened them all. We watched the television together, there were special shows for the celebrations of New Year's Eve until my grandsons nagged us to let them watch cartoons. When midnight finally arrived, we cheered with our bottles and shouted together: Happy New Year! That was to me the most beautiful time of the year.

After the meal, when everyone was cleaning and preparing for sleep, one of my youngest daughters came up to me and asked me about my job. I feared and panicked for an instant that they may think less of me and worry for me about my life. But still, I told them the truth. I said it was fine and stable, and the salary was definitely above average. I asked her the question that I always wanted to ask but feared for the answer. What do you think? I asked, did you think I made the right decision?

To my surprise, she merely smiled. She looked at me softly and held onto my hand as she said quietly: as long as you're happy, we will always support you to the end.

I stared at her for a long time and suddenly felt a rush of tears through my eyes. Am I happy? I didn't have a heroic adventure, I rarely possessed any passion or interest that could define my life, and my life would probably stay like this for the rest of the years I have on earth. But am I happy? I looked around the house at the exhausted but satisfied faces of my children, my grandchildren, and even my husband. Then I scrolled through my memories, and as I did, I felt that I could again feel the smell of the roses, the swirling bodies of the goldfish, the bright and dazzling gaze of the sun that day by day shone through my windowsill and my eyes. And then I began to smile. I smiled as tears of gratitude and satisfaction scrolled down my face. I was happy, I am still happy, and I knew I would continue to be happy in these little moments that once and will always make up my life. It is a life of ordinaries, a life of immense love and beauty.