[Red Envelope] Spring arrives in Tao County, a new journey begins — Happy New Year, friends!

When the chimes mark the passage of time, it’s another year at the crossroads of the old and new. Behind us lies long and short moments of the past, and ahead is an unopened journey.
The 365 days gone by—perhaps you rushed through many paths—traversed city streets at dawn, experienced an unexpected farewell, or heard the silent storm within your heart.
You must have also paused at certain moments: taking a deep breath before the elevator doors close, gazing at your child’s sleeping face for a moment, or in a suddenly quiet evening, listening to the tide of your inner feelings rise and fall.
This year, globalization faced a cold wave, many companies and families clenched their teeth, and the world still navigates through uncertainty.
Distant wars, nearby livelihoods, climate alarms, technological surges…
We are pushed by the current, yet we also strive to row our own boat. You may have felt exhausted, doubted, and asked yourself late at night: “Will everything get better?”
But the next morning, you still get up—cooking porridge, sending your child to school, replying to work messages, calling your parents—using these concrete, small actions to fight against the vast void.
This is the courage of ordinary people. Not without fear, but moving forward with fear; not without regrets, but making peace with them; not always right, but slowly approaching the light through trial and error.
Life is never grand narratives; it is woven from countless “moments”—every moment you take seriously adds resilience to this web.
In the new year, may you stay sensitive—unmoved by seeing too much, still moved by the first snow, hot soup, or a stranger’s smile;
Stay dulled—not swayed by others’ rhythms, allowing yourself to grow slowly, like a tree expanding with its own rings;
Stay connected—with loved ones, with meaningful things, with the part of yourself that remains unscathed by the world.
Time is a river that cannot flow backward, but we can choose how to drift along.
No need to make grand vows—just in the days ahead: take one more deep breath, frown one less time; say one more sincere word, one less perfunctory phrase; immerse yourself more, panic less.
All the stories left unfinished in the old year will become foreshadowing for new chapters; all unreachable shores will turn into guiding stars on your voyage. Every step you take, whether winding or straight, counts.
At this moment, let’s raise a glass—honoring the cocoon formed by wounds, the flowers nourished by tears; honoring ourselves still trying, honoring our continued belief; honoring the future, honoring the unknown, honoring that persistent certainty amid impermanence.
The new year is not the start of miracles, but the second day for ordinary people to continue living earnestly. And it is these countless “second days” that will ultimately bring change.
May your heart have a torch, your feet have solid ground, and your path be lit with a faint glow.
In 2026, we continue—living concretely, loving sincerely, carving our own curves between regret and hope.
Friends, Happy New Year!