Fish once said, “My kind of personality isn’t the type girls usually like.”
We said, “Then maybe none of us are women.”
She is unbelievably good at sending stickers and memes. They are always perfectly timed, hilarious, and sometimes they even come in full sets, almost like they have their own storyline. There is the “Blame me, then” series: “Blame me, then,” “It’s all my fault, then,” “So everything is my fault, then” — something like that, each one escalating with more dramatic force. Then there is the “Time to take your medicine” series, where each picture shows more medicine than the last.
Since then, all of us have caught this joyful bad habit in our group chat. Those who send the stickers do it with endless enthusiasm; those who receive them can barely keep up. As the original master of this art, Fish must look at us, her unruly disciples and grand-disciples, flinging stickers all over the chat, and perhaps stroke her nonexistent beard with great satisfaction.
Fish can do latte art. She can make desserts. She can cook all kinds of dishes.
One time, I went to Fish’s cafe and discovered that she was the only person working in the entire shop. Taking orders, making drinks, preparing food, serving customers — she was running the whole place by herself.
A woman in full command of the room!
When I asked her what her professional title was, I said, “So, are you a pastry chef?”
She corrected me very seriously: “A French pastry chef.”
I said, “Same thing, same thing.”
She said, “No. Not the same.”
That earnest little look on her face was so very Fish.
That is Fish.
Meticulous Fish.
Clear-cut Fish.
A person who has standards even for the small things, and who refuses to be vague when something truly matters.
Fish is very disciplined. She eats well, exercises regularly, and takes good care of her body. Shen Shen has always told us to take good care of ourselves, and Fish is probably the best example of someone who actually listens and puts those words into practice.
Like mother, like child.
Fish’s child is also incredibly disciplined. When her child came home for summer break, Fish excitedly suggested, “Let’s go watch a movie.”
The child said, “No, I want to study.”
Fish was furious.
We were even more furious — this is someone else’s child, of course!!
What Fish has quietly taught me is not only the art of sending stickers.
More importantly, through her, I learned how to stand up against unfairness at work. In the past, I was timid. I would often think, “It’s better not to make trouble. Better to just let it go.” But after getting to know Fish, I learned to speak up and argue my case. Right and wrong can still be discussed. Fairness still lives in people’s hearts.
Fish showed me that a person can be gentle and sharp at the same time; funny and serious at the same time. Someone can send the most ridiculous stickers in the group chat, and still stand firmly in real life, with her back straight, refusing to lower her head easily.
She is not the kind of person who talks about warmth all the time. Her warmth is often hidden in the most ordinary moments: a sharp little joke, a perfectly timed meme, a correction so serious it is almost stubborn, and a kind of persistence that says, “Wrong is wrong.”
Later, I thought: perhaps Fish is Fish because she has her own waters.
She does not always swim with the current. She does not always say the most pleasing things. But she is clear-minded, vivid, real. She has her own direction, and she has her own edges. She taught me that a person does not need to sand themselves down just to be liked. What is truly precious is not the ability to please everyone smoothly, but the ability to remain, in this world, a person with one’s own judgment, one’s own principles, and one’s own way of shining.
So, dear Fish, thank you for coming into our lives.
Thank you for bringing us so much laughter. And thank you for, without even realizing it, teaching me to be a little braver, and then braver still.
If our Vancouver ShengMi diary is a sea slowly unfolding before us, then you must be one of the most vivid fish swimming through it. Wherever you pass, there is laughter, seriousness, stubbornness — and light.
And we are so lucky to have met you in this sea.