I remember when I was young, I encountered a question in a book: "What is the meaning of life?" Each person at different stages will have different perspectives on this question, and it seems to be a difficult question to explain in philosophy.
I remember that this question was too profound for me at that time. Now I have orbited the sun 24 times, and the answer is still not entirely clear, but it seems I have understood more about the meaning of my own life.
From elementary school to university, to graduate studies and entering the workforce, I have accumulated many things: PDF documents, numerous software installation packages, thousands of lines of code, accounts on major platforms, a personal blog that I've nurtured but haven't made public, photos capturing every detail of my life, a hard drive full of data, several valuable electronic devices, and some hard-earned money.
The accumulation of these numbers and materials is proof of my existence in this world. These are traces of years of diligent work, achievements of youth and sweat and tears.
But I often wonder: If one day I pass away, where will these things go? Who will inherit them? Who will understand the stories and values behind them? Or will they just be considered useless and disappear over time?
If that's the case, I would feel very regretful. The value we create should have the ability to be sustained. In the vast universe, Earth is the only place we know where life flourishes, and on this blue planet, the connection and inheritance between people is the best way to fight against loneliness.
Some people say that you can spend all your money, sell all your belongings, and live a carefree life. Isn't that enough?
Yes, that's fine too, and many people nowadays think this way, but there are still deeper issues behind this choice. That is, when all the wealth, knowledge, and values I have accumulated flow into society and are enjoyed by others, and all benefits are reaped by others, I can't help but ask myself: What have I strived for in this life?
Everything I create ultimately goes to a stranger, while my bloodline disappears without a trace through the years. This is not just a material loss, but also a break in spiritual and cultural inheritance.
Inheritance between generations is my preference, not a rule that everyone must follow. I acknowledge the importance of public interest and social equity, but my top priority is my family.
My children are not my tools; they have the right to make their own decisions. I provide them with resources without any obligation of inheritance or career arrangements. I also don't expect strangers to agree with my preferences.
If they ultimately don't take over, I will accept the consequences, but while I can still influence them, I will prioritize investing my time, money, and opportunities in them — this is my definition and practice of "inheritance."
I'm talking about resource allocation, not evaluating the value of bloodlines. I hope my legacy can be passed down to those who carry my genes. This is not just about passing down material wealth; it's the aspiration to continue life.
When I look into the eyes of children, I see myself reflected in their eyes. When I teach them life's truths, I feel the intellectual legacy. When I pass on precious collections to them, I feel the continuation of history. This continuation is not just simple reproduction, but also leaves a unique mark in the flow of time.
Perhaps in the eyes of others, this is a selfish idea, but I would rather admit this selfishness than let all the lifelong efforts I've accumulated turn to smoke.
I believe that deep down, everyone has this desire — hoping that their existence can continue to influence the world in some form, even if that influence is insignificant, even when they are no longer here.
For me, nothing is more meaningful than seeing my children inherit and develop my values and legacy.
Some people also say, what if your children don't inherit your assets and lose them in the future?
This situation does exist. I cannot guarantee that my children will cherish everything I cherish, that they will have their own values and life choices. Nevertheless, I still think this possibility of leaving a legacy is worthwhile.
If I educate my children with all my heart and communicate sincerely, they will understand what these objects and values mean to me. I don't want to force my children to accept everything I do, but I hope they can understand the stories and emotions hidden behind those things.
Even if only a small part of my legacy remains, it's still better than it disappearing completely. My children may not have my entire collection, but they may remember a story I told, or inherit a way of working from me.
If I stay, at least I have a foundation for legacy. If I don't stay, there will be no hope left.
Some people say that you don't necessarily have to pass on your legacy through children, but I only want those who carry my genes to pass on my values and legacy.
As a selfish person, I don't want to impose my life philosophy on everyone. I'm just thinking about a personal question: why do I want to get married and have children?
The answer is very simple — inheritance and companionship. Inheritance is not just the continuation of my genes; it's also the values, creations, and everything I have painstakingly accumulated throughout my life. Companionship is not just me giving love and care unilaterally; it's having someone witness my journey and move forward with me through the vast flow of time. That's all it takes.
As the movie "Coco" conveyed, death is not the end of life, but being forgotten. When we have family, children, and legacy, our stories, values, and marks will continue to exist in this world and will not be submerged by the flow of time.
