With the judicial exam now over, I thought I would finally be free, regardless of the outcome, as I wouldn’t be spending a significant amount of time preparing for it anymore.
However, the crux of the matter lies here. I expected to feel liberated, but the pressures and worries about my future continue to besiege me. At this critical juncture, I find myself at a crossroads, needing to make a decision between a clear path and many uncertain ones.
The clear path refers to taking the graduate entrance exam. Why is it “clear”? At least everyone knows: if I’m unlucky enough to pass, three more years of study are inevitable.
As for where I’ll be three years from now, that’s not a concern for the current decision.
Aside from this clear path, the other options are mostly unpredictable.
I’ve been hesitating for a while. Being a lawyer, it seems parallel to me, with no intersection. I only realized this in my third year of university; otherwise, I wouldn’t have chosen this major.
The reasons are too complicated to explain in detail, but they are solid, or else I wouldn’t make such a definitive statement.
But with a law degree, apart from this somewhat reliable path, should I consider the public security, procuratorate, or court systems?
It seems like my ancestors’ graves haven’t been emitting any auspicious smoke, and I’m too lazy to bother. Trying my luck is one thing, but taking it seriously would be dull.
If I choose to take the graduate entrance exam, it’s like the only path up Mount Hua—either researching or being researched.
But my years in university have taught me that studying law is as absurd as studying modern history.
So, why do I still have the impulse to take the graduate entrance exam?
There are three main reasons:
Lack of confidence. After four years of undergraduate study, I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface of law. I feel embarrassed to say I’ve studied it, with just a few dry phrases about freedom, equality, and justice that anyone who’s read a book could spout. I delude myself into thinking that graduate studies could change this, delving into a specific area of law to learn things most people never encounter, and to talk about things others know little about, as if that’s a sign of being cultured. It seems like self-deception, but society is like that—either fooling others or being fooled, and sometimes fooling oneself in the process. Reflecting on my 16-17 years of education, the most memorable and knowledge-rich period was probably my second year of high school. I can’t recall what I did six years ago, but that year left the deepest impression, even though I can’t remember what happened. This feeling is terrible. Whenever I think back to my first three years of university, there’s not a single memory related to studying. Will this scenario continue into my hypothetical graduate studies? This is my greatest concern.
Young age. I started school early, and even though I repeated a grade, I’m still not of legal marriageable age. Even if I delay for three more years, I’ll only be 24 or 25. Getting married in ten years doesn’t seem like a big deal to me, so taking the opportunity to study more isn’t a big issue. Life is only a few decades long, with its ups and downs. Some say settling down early leads to success, while others say achieving success early leads to settling down. It’s all nonsense, like rabbits not eating the grass near their burrows or the moon being closer to the water’s edge. Confucius said the most important virtue for a person is “forgiveness,” and for a nation, it’s “trust.” In contrast, the former is about not being swayed by poverty or wealth, and the latter is about eating, sleeping, and procreating. From this perspective, I understand that the Chinese emphasis on procreation is largely related to the rulers’ strategies. This is understandable, as eating, sleeping, and procreating are animal instincts. What sets humans apart is their spiritual ability to “trust”; survival and reproduction are sufficient but not necessary. In this era, procreation is no longer an ethical issue but a personal one. Human survival and reproduction seem to have no external threats; it’s not like humanity will perish if someone chooses to be childless. However, traditional Chinese forces are formidable, linking personal fate to family fate for a long time. If one truly has no descendants, it’s hard to explain. Writing this, I’m rambling like Zhuangzi dreaming of being a butterfly, just as Premier Wen talked about political reform at the UN yesterday, not finishing his thoughts in Shenzhen before spouting nonsense. Talking about procreation isn’t about me wanting to stay single; it’s just that if that day comes, it wouldn’t be surprising. But the age issue is far from this. Although I’m young, time is running out for my father and grandparents. Three years might pass in a flash for me, but they can’t guarantee how many more three-year periods they have left. I need to reassure them sooner rather than later. It’s not just them worrying about university graduates not finding jobs on the news; even I feel the immense pressure. If I don’t make something of myself soon, it’s like the emperor isn’t worried, but the eunuchs are anxious.
The graduate entrance exam is easy. This reason seems unbelievable even to me, but it makes sense. I’ve always thought the graduate entrance exam is simple, at least simpler than the judicial exam, provided the target is simple. Constantly bringing up Tsinghua or Peking University is meaningless; a reasonable goal is highly achievable. I feel like, why not take it? It’s such a simple thing to do. The biggest challenge for me is English, which has always been a natural barrier in my exams. I’ve failed multiple times and am unwilling to accept it. I haven’t even passed the CET-6, and I once thought whether to take the graduate entrance exam depended on whether I wanted to start over with English. It’s like when I wanted to dive into the judicial exam; I thought it was simple then, and I still think it’s simple now, even if I might not pass. Indeed, the judicial exam is simple, just trivial and luck-based, lacking the professionalism of specialized exams. It’s broad and comprehensive, more like a memory test. It doesn’t serve to filter legal practitioners; perhaps that’s the intention. After all this, for now, the decision not to take the exam is prevailing, but I need more reasons to strengthen my resolve and continue to kill brain cells.