Fifteen years ago, my pockets held a Nokia phone, a wallet full of cash and transit cards, and a key to my front door. Life felt simpler, more tangible. Now, I hold an iPhone. It’s smarter, sleeker, but at its core, still a phone. The wallet? Almost obsolete, replaced by the convenience of digital payments. The key? No longer for my front door—the house now opens with a fingerprint, no longer needing a physical key. The key I carry today is for my old BMW sedan. ...

I lived in Beijing for ten years. The city was old, filled with history. There, you met all kinds of people. From the professor walking in the park to the beggar on the street. Each person had a story, a piece of the city’s long history. You felt the weight of the past in every tree, every stone, every cicada’s song. Life in Beijing was about depth. It made you think about culture, history, and what it means to live. Every moment felt worth remembering. ...

[Bernhard Karlgren] published by The Commercial Press. This book was written in 1946. The original English title is “The Chinese Language: An Essay on Its Nature and History.” This book is a masterpiece. For a foreigner to write such a book a hundred years ago, Karlgren was truly a once-in-a-generation linguistic genius. Why should we read a book about Chinese written by a foreigner? The author has a passage in the book that I think can serve as the reason: ...

“How to Read a Book” first appeared in 1940; a heavily revised edition followed in 1972. My verdict: a masterpiece. Like the translator, I felt: “Had I met this earlier, my life would be different.” (The only other book that gave me that jolt was George Gamow’s “One, Two, Three… Infinity.”) On Douban the reviews are mixed. If you think the book long-winded, just read Chapter 1—that’s the distilled essence. Its core message? How to learn. ...