More than sixty years ago, China experienced the “Three Years of Natural Disasters.” The agricultural yield was insufficient, leading to a scarcity of food. To make matters worse, peasants had to contribute their household iron pots to “forge steel.” During this time, everyone struggled to have enough to eat, and many died from hunger. In the midst of this hardship, there was a little boy who survived by scavenging dry leaves for sustenance — the leaves that not even sheep would eat today. That little boy was my grandfather. His entire life was a constant struggle against destiny. Due to the circumstances of the time, his talents went unrecognized, and his dreams remained unattainable. Nevertheless, my grandfather remained resilient, brave, and unwavering, successfully navigating through challenging years.

In 1952, my grandfather was born in a small village in Yantai, located in the Chinese province of Shandong. Like most people in the village, his parents were peasants who never had the opportunity to receive education, but dedicated their whole lives to the fields. Despite growing up in such humble beginnings, my grandfather displayed his intelligence from a young age, earning high expectations from his family.

During his primary school years, the schools were not much different from those in today’s society. Students gathered to learn, and teachers were dedicated to educating. From that time on, my grandfather’s academic achievements stood out in the entire village. He served as the class’s commissary in charge of studies and as the captain, and earned various honors. He was also an energetic person. On cool summer evenings, he and a few friends would sneak into the melon fields of the production team to steal melons. “We were poor back then and couldn’t afford to buy melons. So, we would sneak into the fields at night, plan our escape route, and run out with big melons for a meal.” As he reminisced, my grandfather laughed like a child, the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth unfolding with giggles, as if time had reversed and he was back in that childhood summer. He said those were his most carefree days.

Out of more than sixty children in elementary school from the village, only three successfully made it to high school, with one being my grandfather. His academic performance continued to be among the top in his class. “During the evening self-study sessions, many classmates would gather around my desk, asking me questions they didn’t understand, and I would help them out,” reminisced my grandfather. Due to his exceptional mastery of learned knowledge, he often got exempted from exams. “My math and science were the best,” he proudly declared. Among the subjects, Physics was his absolute favorite. In high school, he was introduced to a “mineral radio,” where he delved into its intricate components — diodes for filtering and transistors for amplification — and understood its workings. Because of poverty, such a sound-producing machine was incredibly scarce. “Back then, we were so poor that there was not a single radio in the rural areas. I assembled one myself, riding more than 40 kilometers to buy the component.” He loved such things and was genuinely curious about these novel gadgets. He set a goal, dreaming of studying radio physics in college, with the hope of making contributions to the country’s technological advancement.

As expected, my grandfather graduated with outstanding results, achieving an average score of 99.5 across seven subjects. However, despite his excellent performance, he did not qualify for entering college. The “Cultural Revolution” had begun in China. Schools ceased classes; many intellectuals faced persecution. At that time, college admissions followed a “recommendation system,” where individuals with connections or a strong “backstage” could directly enter college, even if they handed in a blank exam. Unfortunately, my grandfather, with good academic scores but a humble background, lost the opportunity to study in college. “The poorer you are, the less capability you have,” he sighed.

He then decided to respond to the party’s call, “Go to the countryside, go to the border areas, go to the places where the motherland needs you the most.” Upon returning to his village, he, being one of the smartest people, was assigned to operate a tractor. “In a town with 48 villages, there were only 3 tractors. I thought the job wasn’t bad, so I went to learn mechanical repair and tractor driving for a few months. Then, I came back to operate the tractor, serving agriculture.” Besides that, my grandfather tried to grow vegetables, orchards, cereal seeds, medicinal herbs, and more, but the profits were meager. Later, when the village paved concrete roads, he built a house by the roadside and began repairing agricultural machinery. At the same time, China began to implement reform and opening up in 1978. Agricultural land was contracted to farmers, and the number of agricultural machinery increased. Tractors, three-wheeled vehicles, hand-operated tractors, water pumps — any machine that broke down could be fixed by my grandfather. Observed by his eldest daughter — my mom, “he worked tirelessly from dawn to dusk, starting work before daylight, and even continued working when it got dark. Often, he had to continue working with flashlights,” she recalled. Gradually, the family’s life improved.

However, China’s “family planning” policy continued to restrict people. People were not allowed to have a second child after having the first one. “One afternoon, the village inspection team came knocking on our door. I was working in the fields, and your pregnant grandmother, hearing the sound, got scared and quickly climbed over two walls, escaping to the neighbor’s house, and hid behind the rice barrel in the storage room. That’s how she avoided being taken away for an abortion.” My grandfather stopped shaking his leg, sitting upright on the sofa. Although my aunt’s life was spared, my grandfather was fined 2000 yuan (which is equivalent to 0.4 million yuan, or 56,000 dollars, today). It’s worth mentioning that, at that time, the family’s annual income was only a little over 200 yuan.

So, my grandfather worked tirelessly. In 1977, China reinstated the college entrance examination. However, due to the isolated nature of rural areas at that time — with no newspapers or television — when my grandfather learned about the opportunity to take the exam several years later, he, having three children, no longer had the financial means to support his college education. Pausing here, my grandfather took off his glasses, stood up from the sofa, walked to the balcony, lit a cigarette, and slowly began, “There’s a saying: ‘When under a roof, one has to bow.’ I already had a wife and three children; the pressure of life was quite overwhelming. How could I abandon them and go to college myself?” Thus, he gave up his dream of attending university, putting all his efforts into ensuring that all three of his daughters would have the opportunity.

Later on, his three daughters went to college, got married, and established their own careers, but my grandfather himself was afflicted with a myriad of illnesses, choosing to remain in the village where he had grown up and lived his whole life. Physical labor was no longer an option for him. In the face of the changes brought by the times, individuals were powerless to resist, and the dreams could easily be shattered by a powerful, intangible force. “My fate, it’s all because of the era. Otherwise, I could have gone to college and made a greater contribution to society,” my grandfather expressed with deep regret, tears welling up in the eyes of a man in his seventies. Yet, what a person can achieve is to persist, be brave, and resilient, settling oneself and one’s family in tumultuous periods, waiting for the power of rebirth. He continued: “But overall, I raised three college graduates. Although I am an old man now, my children continue to contribute to the country. Humans are the most precious; with people, any human miracles can be created.”