January 28

For the past few days I have put nearly all my energy into my WeChat public account. Trying to attract readers while maintaining quality has taken a great deal of work. Fortunately, the numbers—views, reading time, shares, and recommendations—have all improved noticeably. That gives me some confidence.

I started buying books rather wildly in the early hours of the 16th. By now I have read most of The God Delusion closely. A book like this demands care: an illuminating analogy or remarkable argument can appear anywhere. Yet I cannot read the first pass too slowly, treating every word as precious, or I lose momentum. There is a balance between attentive reading and a sustainable first-reading pace.

For people like us, perhaps the most valuable work is the kind that takes years to pay off. I often think in terms of seven years. That is enough time, I believe, to become very good at something among the people around me: writing and expression (I am in my fifth year), physical fitness (my sixth), or carrying out decisions (my second year of deliberate practice).

That outlook is why the idea of buying a few musk turtles to breed did not trouble me. Experienced keepers warned that raising hatchlings was hard and that results might take five years. Fine, I thought. I raised the large turtle at home from a hatchling in 2017. Time will pass anyway; keeping turtles will not prevent me from doing other things.

There is another pattern I have noticed lately. Gold has risen, and some people rush in without thinking, then anxiously ask everyone when to sell. A small pullback distracts them from everything else, as if missing this run would mean missing their only chance to get rich.

I see the same mood among people speculating on so-called “shitcoins”—tokens that can surge or collapse within a minute. Chat groups celebrate tenfold and hundredfold gains. A few self-styled “teachers” stir everyone up with talk of getting in on the next move. Others cheer or complain that they missed a chance to become rich. It leaves me speechless.

You may notice that this post has grown from my usual three or four hundred Chinese characters to more than a thousand. Why? These people drove me to write. The more feverish the moment, the more reason I have to work steadily. What will become of us? Time will answer.