He Has Gone Wandering — He Will Come Back (Fund Analysis)

Qingming Festival has come around again. In the past I was never particularly sensitive to this day, because death still felt far away from us — and matters too distant are things one is reluctant to contemplate prematurely.

As the years accumulate, especially as peers and even younger friends depart one after another, a lingering melancholy and heartache forces one to reflect.

The ultimate destination of life can only be one, and no one can escape it. Yet until that moment arrives, no one engages in deep contemplation.

A human life may be long or short, but those who live it brilliantly and meaningfully are not the majority.

When someone is gone yet still remembered by so many — that person did not live in vain.

Muzi — he has been gone a long time, but every day people still visit his blog, still leave comments. Over 70 million clicks record the admiration and longing of those who love him. His hearty, resonant laughter still echoes around us...

On the fifth day of the Lunar New Year this year, I left Beijing for a serene cemetery in Nanhai District, Foshan, Guangdong, to visit Muzi. He has been here for over two years now. Though I've never wanted to face the reality of his departure, it cannot be avoided — he simply cannot come back, and I had to go see him.

Taking a taxi from Guangzhou proper, the driver didn't know the exact location we were heading to. Nanhai District is quite large, and the local Cantonese dialect was hard for me to understand. Guided by a motorbike taxi, we spent the better part of the morning before finally finding Changqing Cemetery. The vast cemetery grounds were impeccably maintained, so quiet it stopped all thought.

Following the directions in Old Chen's text messages, we still couldn't find the specific spot. We had no choice but to go back to the administrative office, check the records, and finally locate Muzi's current home. Since all the shops in the surrounding area were closed for the New Year holiday, there was nowhere to buy offerings for the other world. Fortunately, the taxi driver who brought us was very kind — he patiently drove us around for half a day until we finally found one shop still open. After buying what we needed, he drove us up the hillside and waited below for us. I was deeply moved. Muzi's "home" perfectly suited his character — on a hillside with a wide-open view, flowing water circling the foot of the hill below.

Winter in Guangdong is still green. The sun shone lazily, and everything around was peaceful and serene. Standing here, one cannot help but think about one's own life, one's own belonging. We set off a string of firecrackers to announce our arrival to Muzi — I imagine he knew. In silent communion with him, I wondered whether there's a stock market on the other side, and if not, what would keep him busy... What was most comforting was that he was together with his mother. He must be very happy now. Life truly came to an end here. But his image from those days — animated and vibrant, holding forth to us in that unstoppable torrent of words — remains vivid before my eyes. I remember very clearly asking him once: "In this market, who's the best?" He laughed his signature laugh and said: "That would be us, of course." That confidence, that composure — no matter what state the market was in, he always had a definitive answer, never vague.

How many people came to love our magazine because of his articles? Many acquaintances would ask me about his true identity, hoping to meet him in person and hear him speak. He was genuinely sincere with people and never concealed his views. A few sentences from him could clarify concepts that had been muddled in your head. What he showed us was always his most brilliant, most dazzling side. His own affairs he never discussed with us. Even in the final stage of his life, he still wished that we would forever remember only his most glorious face. He didn't want us to see him sick.

In his final days, we stayed in touch by phone. I can still faintly hear him on the other end, his voice slurred and indistinct, murmuring again and again that he was fine, he was fine... He loved life so fiercely. He refused to believe that death could truly drag him away. On the day he left, he was in Guangzhou. Old Chen told us not to come, because he didn't want us there. Old Chen dressed him in his favorite silk Chinese-style changshan. He asked Old Chen to tell us — "He has gone wandering, and he will come back."

Coming to this place, accepting reality, only brought more reflection. I believe that when we meet again, Muzi will greet us with that characteristic, magnanimous laugh of his and tell us even more wonderful stories. So many people long to hear more of his stories. The articles he left on his blog — every single one is a classic.

As the saying goes, Heaven envies genius. Perhaps in that other world he continues his story still. The stories he left behind in this world have become our eternal memories...