Among my university peers, there was a girl in my cohort who had a delicate and petite appearance, speaking softly and gently—someone you would instinctively want to protect. In her senior year, she and many classmates went to intern at a television station. The work was intense, the pressure high, and there was no salary or guarantee of staying. Almost everyone left, but she stayed. She said it was a place where as long as you worked hard enough, you would eventually see results.
Now she earns the highest salary in her team, with an annual income that makes me envious. But beyond the numbers, I can imagine how much more she must have worked each day compared to others. When she sprained her ankle while playing sports, she went to the hospital alone and then hobbled back to her fourth-floor apartment by herself. Working late into the night is routine, and she even carries a flashlight with a self-defense function in her bag.
When she talks about all this, she remains calm and indifferent. Yet I can’t help but think that if it had happened to me, each of these experiences would have been enough to make me feel overwhelmed and complain for days. She takes care of her younger sister, manages her own mortgage, learns cooking from a mentor, plays sports with colleagues, and hikes with friends—her life is rich and full. Not long ago, I attended her wedding, and seeing her still delicate appearance, I became even more certain that her inner strength will lead her to a happy life.