Do the certain amid uncertainty.
Do the certain amid uncertainty.
Below is an article by Shiyi Pan, one of China’s leading real estate developers during the country’s property boom. This is an English translation version.
April 6, 2026
The first time I heard the saying, “My life is in my own hands, not in heaven’s,” something in me paused. It is the kind of line that lifts the spirit, but I always felt it did not quite say everything. Later, I heard it more and more—out on the street, around the dinner table. When people ran into hardship, they often used it to encourage themselves. I understood that. Still, in my heart, there was always a second half to the sentence: my life is in my own hands, and also in heaven’s.
A person does have to rely on themselves to get through life. Food has to be eaten one bite at a time. Roads have to be walked one step at a time. And the things in our hands have to be finished one by one. My mother often used to say, “Even if a pie falls from the sky, you still have to open your mouth.” It is a plain, rustic saying, but it is true. We cannot just sit and wait. We have to be ready. That way, when something good comes, we are able to receive it.
When I was young, I always thought I had to accomplish something big to count for anything. Only later did I realize that life is not lived that way. If you promise someone something, do it on time. If something is yours to carry, do not hide from it. Be honest with people. Do not cheat. Be decent. Do not take advantage. Many things that seem small are in fact the very foundation of how a person lives and how a person conducts themselves.
When I was little, I often heard the story of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf.” At the time, I thought it was just a story adults used to scare children into behaving. But when you grow up, you come to see that if a person is not truthful, then no matter how nice their words sound, they cannot stand on them. Someone may trust you once, maybe twice, but not a third time. Of course it is good to be capable. But being capable is still not as important as being genuine. Affection, friendship, whether others are willing to trust you with something again—most of that rests on these very things.
When I was younger, it was not as though I had never suffered losses. I complained too. I did not understand why honest people always seemed to have to bear a little more unfairness. Only as I got older did I begin to feel that if a person has done nothing shameful, there is a kind of steadiness inside them. It may not bring a reward right away, but you can sleep at night, and you can stand firm in the daytime. Peace of mind is one of those things you do not think much about when life is smooth. Only when something really happens do you realize how precious it is.
I remember one year, late at night, my father suddenly became ill. I ran to my grandmother’s house to ask for help. It was pitch dark outside, and I was frightened. My grandmother looked at me and said only one thing: “Do not be afraid. If you have done nothing wrong, you need not fear a knock at the door in the middle of the night.” I have remembered that sentence for many years. By the time people reach the later part of life, what they seek may not be great excitement after all. To have a little peace in one’s heart is already enough.
To say “my life is in my own hands” and leave it at that is still not the whole truth. No matter how hard a person tries, there are places they still cannot reach. We did not earn the sun. We did not earn the air. We did not earn life itself. To wake up each morning and see the light, to get out of bed and walk, to hear another person speak, to lift a bowl of hot rice to your hands—these things are so ordinary that we hardly notice them. But if you think carefully, not one of them came from ability alone. When you think of it that way, you no longer dare speak too absolutely. Heaven is greater than I am.
I suffered a great deal in the past. But now, looking back, I can see that there is not a single lesson in life that can be skipped. Those hard days, those times of loss and hardship—every bit of it counted. All of it was shaping the person I would become later. If I really had skipped over those things back then, I probably would not be who I am now. Thinking of it this way, even suffering begins to feel like a kind of gift. It was only that, while I was in the middle of it, I could not see it clearly.
The “heaven” I speak of is not simply the sky above our heads, nor is it only what people call fate. When people cry out in distress, “Oh, heaven,” the one they are calling on is somewhat closer to what I mean. If you think more deeply, it is a kind of presence, one whose wisdom and power far surpass our own. It is like a tree and the person who planted it: naturally, the one who planted the tree understands more than the tree itself. That is simply how things are.
And when you think of it that way, a little gratitude begins to rise in the heart. Along the road of life, the people who helped us did not always do anything great. Sometimes it was only a word, a look, or the simple act of lending a hand. When we are young, we do not feel much about such things. Only later do we understand that many roads were not made by our own two feet alone. Even the mountain before the house, the morning light, the water in the well—these things were already there, waiting for you. If a person always believes everything was earned by themselves alone, the heart easily grows hard.
Sometimes a person also needs to quiet down. We cannot always be calculating, always striving, always wrestling with ourselves. Do what should be done, and then set the rest down for a while. Some answers are not pounded out at the table, and they are not arrived at by turning them over endlessly in the mind. When the heart grows quiet, things slowly become clearer. When it is time to do your best, do your best. But do not force what cannot be forced, and learn also how to let go. That is not surrender. It is simply knowing that heaven is greater than I am.
So to me, the words “My life is in my own hands, and also in heaven’s” feel more complete. What I ought to do for myself, I should still do with care. What is not mine to decide, I need not wrestle with to the bitter end. I still have to walk my own road, but I should also remember to lift my head and look at heaven. Only then can life feel a little more settled inside.
Shiyi Pan
April 6, 2026
第一次听见“我命由我,不由天”,我心里就顿了一下。话是提气的话,只是我总觉得,说到这里还没有说完。后来这句话听得多了,路上听见过,饭桌上也听见过,大家碰到难处时,常拿它给自己鼓劲。我听着也明白,只是心里一直存着后半句话:我命由我,也由天。人活一辈子,还是得靠自己做事。饭要一口口吃,路要一步步走,手里的事也得一件件做完。妈妈常说:“天上掉馅饼,也得自己张嘴。”这话很土,却很实在。我们不能坐着等,要做好准备。这样,好事来临时,才能接得住。年轻的时候,我总觉得非得做成什么大事,才算有出息。后来才知道,日子不是这样过的。答应人的事按时做到,该自己担的别躲,人要实诚不欺骗,得本分不占便宜。许多看着不大的事,都是做人做事的根底。小时候常听《狼来了》的故事,那时只当是哄小孩的。人长大了才知道,一个人若不实在,话说得再漂亮,也站不住。别人信你一次、两次,信不过第三次。人有本事当然好,可本事大,不如人实在。情分、交情、别人肯不肯再把事托给你,多半都在这些地方。年轻时我也不是没吃过亏,也怨过,不明白老实人为什么总要多受一点委屈。年纪慢慢大了才觉得,人若不亏心,心里总归是安稳的。未必立刻有回报,可晚上睡得着,白天站得住。安稳这东西,没事的时候不觉得它珍贵;真有了事儿,才知道它值钱。记得有一年夜里,爸爸忽然发病,我跑去奶奶家求救,外头黑得很,人也慌。奶奶看着我,只说了一句:“不要怕,不做亏心事,半夜不怕鬼敲门。”这话我记了很多年。人活到后来,求的未必是多大的热闹,能有一点心安,已经很好。“我命由我”,只说“由我”还不全。人再用力,也有够不着的地方。太阳不是我们挣来的,空气不是,命也不是。每天一早醒来,能看见光亮,能下床走路,能听见人说话,能端起一碗热饭,这些事平常得很,细想起来,却没有一样是凭本事换来的。想到这里,人就不敢把话说得太满,天比我大。我以前吃了许多苦,可现在回头看,人生没有哪一课是能跳过的。那些难熬的日子,那些吃亏受苦的时候,一点一滴都作数,都在锤炼后来的我。若当时真的跳过去了,现在的我恐怕也不会是如今这般样子了。这么一想,连苦难也觉得是一种馈赠,只是当时身在其中,看不明白罢了。我理解的“天”,不是头顶的那片天空,也不只是所谓的命运。人们在情急时会喊“老天爷啊”,那个被呼喊的对象,就有点我说的这个意思。往深里想,它是一种存在,它的智慧和能力远远高过我们。好比一棵树和种下它的人:种的人总归比被种的树懂得多,这是自然而然的道理。想到这里,心里就会生出一点感激。一路走来,帮过我们的人,未必都是做了什么大事,有时候不过是一句话、一个眼神、一次顺便搭把手。年轻时不觉得,后来才明白,很多路其实不是自己一个人走出来的,连门前的山、早上的光、井里的水,都是先放在那里等着你的。人若总认为什么都是自己挣来的,心就容易硬。人有些时候,也得安静一点。不能老是算,老是争,老是和自己较劲。该做的做了,剩下的,放一放,有些答案,不是在桌上拍出来的,也不是在心里翻来覆去想出来的。心静一点,人反倒能慢慢看明白。该尽力的时候尽力,不强求,也得会放手。这不算认输,不过是知道,天比我大。所以我想,“我命由我,也由天”这句话,听着更妥帖一些。该自己做的事,照旧认真去做;不是自己能定的,也不必死拧着。路还是得自己走,天也还是要抬头看。这样过日子,心里才能踏实些。
潘石屹
二〇二六年四月六日
No Fixed Answers in This World (世间无解)
February 28, 2026
Most things (maybe even everything) don’t have only two sides—they’re not simply good or bad, black or white, success or failure. Every person and every situation is a high-dimensional spectrum, extremely complex. Once you truly recognize this, you may find it easier, in many moments, to stop being so rigid or obsessive. Because you realize: you are complex, the world is complex, and the relationship between you and the world is profoundly complex. The question you’re clinging to was never meant to have a definitive answer—so there’s no need to keep clinging to it.
绝大多数事情(甚至所有事情),并非只有两面,不是非好即坏,非黑即白,非成功就是失败。每一个人和事,都是一个高维的光谱,具有极其的复杂性。当你认识到这一点,或许很多时候可以不再偏执。因为你知道,你是复杂的,外界也是复杂的,你和外界的关系是非常复杂的。你所执着的问题本就无解,也自然无需继续执着了。
Orlando, Florida. December 19, 2025
July 6, 2025
I recently finished reading What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami—a book I had been wanting to read for a long time. I found that many of Murakami's reflections on running, writing, and life deeply resonate with my own values.
Murakami believes the most important standard for his work is the one he sets for himself, rather than external validation. He views the mental and psychological burdens that come with a creative career as the price he willingly pays for doing what he loves. When it comes to networking, he offers a unique perspective: the most important relationships in his life are not with specific individuals, but with his invisible readers. For him, the best way to maintain this relationship is to produce high-quality work consistently. He also views running—and writing—as a way to make life richer and more meaningful. Living with purpose and vitality, he argues, is more important than merely pursuing health or longevity. He emphasizes the importance of taking a long-term view of personal strengths and weaknesses. For example, someone who gains weight easily might be more motivated to exercise, which could lead to better overall health. Of course, Murakami clarifies that doing more exercise doesn't necessarily mean a person is particularly persistent; often, it's simply because they enjoy it. This idea echoes my own experience. I’ve never considered myself particularly smart, which is why I work so hard at research. I’ve always believed that if I don’t put in the effort, I’ll be left behind. Ironically, this “lack of natural brilliance” has become a key motivator behind my productivity and some early successes in my career. But like Murakami, I believe that while persistence matters, passion matters even more. I’m genuinely passionate about all aspects of research—reading, writing, implementing studies, exploring ideas, and launching new projects. It’s this passion that helps me endure the challenges of this profession. It’s a bit like being in a relationship. You don’t stay with someone simply because you’re persistent—you stay because you love them. Of course, even love has its moments of fatigue. Murakami talks about this in the context of running and writing—sometimes, you simply don’t feel like doing it. That’s when what he calls “automatic drive” kicks in: you don’t think, you just do. In Chinese, he puts it as: “我跑,故我在” (“I run, therefore I am”)—suggesting that his identity is shaped through the act of running. I feel the same about research: my research defines who I am.
Another idea that struck me was Murakami’s approach to writing: writing leads to thinking, not the other way around. He believes in thinking through writing, and deepening that thinking through revision. That resonates with my own experience as well. Finally, Murakami suggests that pain is an inseparable part of running. Pain, he says, reminds us we are alive. That made me reflect on why I go to the gym nearly every day, regardless of rain or snow. Of course, part of the reason is to build muscle, but the deeper satisfaction comes from the pain itself. It’s the same with research. It’s not the publication that keeps me going—it’s the struggle, the process, the pain. That’s what makes me feel alive.
July 1, 2025
In the summer of 2025, I visited the Hoover Dam—a landmark I first encountered in my middle school history textbook. Standing atop the dam, I gazed at the slow-moving Colorado River. The view reminded me of many scenes along the Lancang River: the color of the water, the contours of the surrounding mountains, the stillness of the air, and the vastness of the sky. The Lancang River flows past a small town called Manwan, where I spent three years teaching. That moment by the Colorado River brought back memories of people and experiences from my past. Beside me stood my current partner—different from the one who accompanied me years ago.
When I was younger, I had grand dreams—for myself and for the world. But after all I’ve been through, and all the people I’ve met, my greatest wish now is simple: peace. I hope my friends, my loved ones, and even those I may never meet can live happy and healthy lives, free from the burdens imposed by the world around them.
Hoover Dam on the Colorado River. June 13, 2025
Manwan Town on the Lancang River. January 6, 2019