The cultivation of friendship can be likened to the growing of trees. The seed must be carefully chosen, it must fall on good ground, the nutrient and water must be on regular supply, shelter from unpredictable elements is sometimes obligatory, and industrious pruning is indispensable.

   Friendship is a catch word of all times. From time immemorial our ancestors have preached and cherished the sacredness of friendship. We often read of stories about the sustained and enduring friendship which has inspired generations of people. The friendship between Marx and Engels is one of the exemplary examples. Marx was poor, but he had an indomitable courage and unrivaled perseverance in pursuing his career which had won the adoration of Engels, who generously assisted him in his pursuits. Engels played a key role in helping Marx to complete his masterpiece, Capital. Their friendship stemmed from altruism.

   The friendship of Liu, Guan and Zhang is typical of Confucius doctrine of loyalty. The morals of Confucius lay stress on the virtue of accountability. Man’s character should be consistent and constant. When one has established his reputation of being trustworthy, he should take every effort to safeguard it from ruin. Guan was especially deserving commendation, he had not only stuck to Liu through thick and thin, but also resisted successfully such temptations as fame, fortune and power their adversary provided for him. His integrity of character and magnanimity of mind have become legendary among Chinese people. Reputation overrides anything else in their friendship.

   Gone are those days and friendship has acquired new meaning nowadays. Making friends for convenience or for mutual benefits is becoming a trend, as it enforces no uncomfortable terms upon either party, and the relationship terminates at one’s disposal. Still in the depths of our hearts, many of us are craving for true friendship. As an ordinary man, I have the luck of having successfully built up an enduring friendship with Quixote, of which I am proud.        

    I have forgotten what brought us together, the only memory being that we were considered good playmates by the adults when we were about 6 or 7 years old.   At that time his father was an engineer of a large company in Qingdao City; his mother was a homemaker living in Weifang City, the same city where my parents worked.   I am older than him by a few months, but to him I have always been a big  brother whose advice he counts on. We both loved literature, telling stories and playing all sorts of games. He was compactly built and of middle height. He seemed to have little promise in pursuing a college education and took to mechanics early on, which incurred the dislike of his overbearing father who placed a high premium on academic works. I remember him crying once in my home when we were in high school. When I asked him why,  he told me everything after hesitating and wavering for a long time. It turned out that his father was quite a martinet, his harsh measures becoming daily intolerable. The first time he failed his exam, he was forced to fast for a day; the second time chastisement was enforced. Once he revolted, his father threw a porcelain pot straight at his face, which narrowly missed him and crashed into the wall. He was so scared that he feared to go home and the sound of his father’s footstep struck terror into his heart. Now I know he was the victim of domestic violence, but in those days we had little idea of equality and no one disputed a father disciplining his child. Family misfortune may be one of the reasons drawing him to my home. The seed of friendship was sown then and he was a diligent gardener who was happily toiling for his work.

Time flies by. Two years after I entered college, he went to work in his father’s company as an apprentice repairman, but his interests in books were not going away. He read New Concept English and listened to the tapes, a phenomenon not usually seen among the workmen. As he had a small salary then, he often sent me presents, and yearly invited me to spend my holiday in Qingdao. At the seaside, bathing feet in seawater, aside from reminiscences of the old days, we would talk about our future, weaving all sorts of dreams together. To him, I always had a bright future: making lots of money, becoming a celebrity or at least a man of knowledge. I seldom discouraged him for such silly thoughts, for dreaming is soothing to an aching wound. The seed sprouted and struck root under the nurture of us both.

The year I graduated from college, his father succumbed to gastric cancer, and along with it, went the family income. His brother and sister were then young and dependent, so at the age of 23, he became the bread winner of a big family. At this time his hatred towards his father vanished, and he often blamed himself for not having accomplished what his father hoped him to do. He was very stubborn and single-minded and was not a man to be reasoned with. When he saw that I had little intention of making money, he determined to rely on himself and fight a way out. And indeed he made it. Within two years, he found a job in a clothes factory in Paris, the salary there being much higher than mainland China. Before embarking for Paris, he met a young girl working in a restaurant, whom he courted earnestly. The girl didn’t take him seriously then, as he was not earning a good money, but they kept contact. I was very happy for him, and seeing him off at the airport. After the storm, came the sunshine. The sapling made its debut.

He worked for two years in Paris, regularly talking with his girl friend on the phone. The girl was moved by his persistence and begged him to come back, hinting that she was willing to become his bride. Overwhelmed by this unexpected luck, he quitted his job and flew back to marry his sweetheart. The entire family were  happy on the wedding day. The couple led a relatively peaceful and comfortable life for over two years with only one drawback: his wife was infertile. Quixote, an old-fashioned man he is, dismissed it as unimportant and told her that they should submit to fate and be contented with what they had. His wife took heart and encouraged him to return to France to resume his work, and pledged to be a faithful wife, waiting for him till he made enough money to buy their own house. Quixote agreed. Three months before his departure, my mother was diagnosed esophageal cancer and a major operation was needed. He got the news and on the day of the operation he arrived at the hospital and stood by my side, watching my mum like her adopted son. It was the saddest days of my life, witnessing my beloved mother suffering and enduring in the ICU. He stayed in the hospital with me for three days till my mother was relieved from the ICU. A friend in need is a friend indeed. The meaning hit home then. Underneath the roots grew thick, spreading countless tentacles around and sucking nutrients on their own; above ground the small tree was in full blossom, visited by swarms of honeybees landing on the petals to drink the nectar.

His second visit to France proved to be a failure as Paris was experiencing a financial crisis then, and many companies were forced to lay off their workers. After his visa expired, he was sent packing. The day of his return, his wife telephoned me that she was sorry but had to file a divorce, the reason being that Quixote was a loser.  As I was working in Beijing then, we arranged to see each other after he landed at the airport. During dinner, I tentatively asked him about his relations with his wife, he said he must work hard to make amends. Little had he anticipated his wife’s defection, so he was surprised to see that she was very cold towards him when he came home. The next day his wife moved out and from then on they separated for two years and ended up in divorce. For the first year, he didn’t grudge against his wife and sent her all his savings, hoping she might change her mind, but his patience worn out and rejected her conciliations later on. So instead of making a fortune, he became penniless and jobless at the mid-thirties. What was his choice? He became a taxi driver, and is now happily driving to and forth in the beautiful of Qingdao City.  The tree grows tall and stout now, but is it robust enough to withstand the assaults of the vicissitudes of fate?

 Those are the days of our growing friendship.

 From what I describe above, my friends will have little difficulty in piecing together the plight of Quixote:  a victim of child abuse, a loser in career, and a failure in marriage. He has overreached himself when he struggled to fulfill his father’s hopes, to solve family financial troubles and to realize his wife’s dreams.  Why should I cherish our friendship? There are three reasons to rationalize my choice.

First, as Aristotle said, friendship is one soul residing in two bodies. My friend, though slow in studies, is gifted in many areas. When he was a teenager, he impressed me by calculating l the time by observing the position of the sun and the shadow casted on the ground. He seems dull and dour, but he is a man of parts. He made a miniature Eiffel Tower with copper after returning from Paris; making intricate machineries came easy to him and he had made very impressive products. By this yardstick our intelligence is commensurate with each other, even if he only finished middle school. He was stubborn, and I am obstinate; he single-mindedly set up his heart on making a fortune abroad, and I seldom stop reading and studying, hoping to build a castle in the air. So we have common personalities.

  Secondly, trust is sine qua non in enduring friendship. Quixote confided almost everything in me since we both were children. And I always gave him my advice, though he often kept his own counsel. Three instances have supported him being a trustworthy man. He blamed not his father for his fate even though he abused him and brought upon him irreparable damages; he shouldered the family burden without hesitation after his father passed away; he continually sent his earnings to his wife even though she deserted him. Only in a creditable man rests true friendship. I am blessed with having such a friend.

   The last and also the most important for me to preserve our friendship is that he is a selfless man. He is generous to a fault. He is always taking pity on the poor even if he is leading a hard life. Whenever I need him, he is always there to help. He has never made a promise to do something for me, but I know that when the time comes, he is the man who is willing to back me up without self-serving ends.

     Now he is in deep water, it is my turn to give him a hand. Instead of taking his burden from him, I am prepared to call out his energy to solve his own problems. What he needs most now is a woman who understands him and ready to nurse his wounds. He told me that a relatively rich woman was ready to accept his proposal, but it hurt his pride to marry up. He still wanted to marry some girl who looked up to him. His mentality needs a reshuffle, which is the first obstacle to overcome. The other downside of his character is his lacking common sense: he still considers him a young man having a bright future before him. He needs to be disillusioned and brought back to tackle the nuts and bolts. So I shall come back to visit him and give him a talking this June. Sure words only are not enough, he is also in urgent need of financial help, which I shall take on with him. When he is unable to look after the tree we have planted together, my timely takeover will ensure its healthy growth till the luxuriant branches and leaves laden with plenty of fruits grows into a splendid canopy, under the shade of which we can sit side by side, banter with each other, and review the old days together, believing that the tree will outlive us and bear witness to our descendants that our friendship has stood the test of time. My friends, do you believe that Quixote and I will succeed in keeping our tree of friendship evergreen? Or don’t you want to have as loyal a friend as Quixote?