In these years of running a company, what drains me most isn’t the pressure of business—it’s the ineffective attrition within relationships.
Not conflict—conflict is actually easy to handle; once the argument ends, you have a conclusion. What truly drains you are the gray areas: provocations you don’t know whether to respond to, relational boundaries you can’t quite articulate, moments when you know the other person is wrong but can’t be bothered to explain.
These thirteen observations are notes left behind after repeatedly feeling my way through these gray areas. They’re not grand life truths—just a few reminders that have helped me avoid some unnecessary detours.
On Proof: Most Powerful When Unneeded
The moment you start showing off, you’re usually not far from disaster. True capability is the sense of proportion kept within the heart, not the track record worn on the lips. I’ve seen too many people start showing off at their most triumphant moments, then find they can no longer rein it in precisely when they most need to keep a low profile. The more you want to prove something, the more easily you expose yourself.
The force of rebuttal in one’s words is sometimes merely a cover for powerlessness. The gap between levels lies not in whose voice is louder, but in whether one can quietly understand the other. Once I got into an argument with a business partner, and I expended great effort rebutting him. Looking back afterward, I realized I was so agitated not because he was wrong, but because he had poked at a blind spot I didn’t want to face.
People who speak quickly usually have little scheming in them. Those who are truly calculating are skilled at letting language pave the way for silence. This isn’t teaching you to become a calculating person—it’s reminding you that, in the workplace, the colleague you should be most wary of is often not the one who speaks bluntly, but the one who never takes a stance yet always strikes at the crucial moment.
On Relationships: Selection Matters More Than Confrontation
High-level relating is never in a hurry to define the distance between two people. Measured warmth, generous silence, the wisdom of leaving space blank—this is the beginning of deep friendship. When I was young I always wanted to close the distance quickly, thinking “we’re already friends, right?” Only later did I understand that the best relationships are the ones that need no confirmation.
Those who are ruthless often keep a clean house, too. Outwardly they explain little; inwardly they leave no room for slack. No entanglement, no hesitation. Ruthlessness is a decisive, ordered kind of strength. One thing I learned while leading teams: when you fail to cut ties that need cutting, you think you’re being merciful, but you’re actually being irresponsible toward everyone.
Acquaintances won’t allow you to grow stronger, because their world has reserved no place for you. This sounds cold, but if you’ve ever experienced the scene where “friends feel uncomfortable about your growth,” you’ll know it’s no exaggeration. You don’t need to fall out with them—you just need to quietly walk away, and let the world update their maps for them.
The more incapable a person, the less they understand gratitude and appreciation. There’s no need to blame them; you just need to exit the stage of their life. Not everyone deserves your goodwill, and learning to identify who is draining you is one of the most important lessons of adulthood.
The most stable relationship in the world is one where each takes what they need. Realistic to say, but never hypocritical. Enduring relationships are never one-sided giving, but a two-way “just right.” In “The Arrogance of the Elite, the Way Out for Youth,” I discussed how meritocracy makes people believe everything depends on themselves. But the same holds in relationships—the party who believes they “give more” often overlooks the feedback the other gives in a different form.
On Argument: You Don’t Have to Play the Right Role in the Wrong Script
When someone keeps rebutting you, it’s actually not that they don’t understand—it’s that they need too badly to “win.” Faced with such a person, rather than explaining, it’s better to fall silent. You don’t have to play the right role in the wrong script. Life is too short to spend persuading those who don’t want to be persuaded.
The strongest self-protection isn’t confrontation, but selection. Learning to filter out ineffective energy is the most elegant self-discipline of adulthood. I once spent a great deal of time explaining “the right things” to “the wrong people,” only to realize later—my problem wasn’t insufficient expressive ability, but that I had chosen the wrong audience.
In “A Memorandum for the Resilient Society,” I discussed how modern people’s exhaustion often isn’t from too heavy a workload, but from too much ineffective mental attrition. The ineffective attrition within relationships is the most hidden source of fatigue.
On Self-Discipline: Not Deprivation, but the Reshaping of Freedom
Those who can set limits on their own desires are mostly also able to establish order amid chaos. Self-discipline isn’t deprivation; it’s the reshaping of freedom’s borders. I’ve observed many successful entrepreneurs—they’re not necessarily all brilliant, but they almost all share one common trait: the ability to say “no” to themselves. Not because their willpower is extraordinary, but because they understand that “present restraint” is paying for “future freedom.”
Stubbornness without accompanying wisdom easily becomes a stumbling block of fate. True fortitude is being able to bow at the right moment, being able to admit there’s no need to grit it out. When I was young I treated “not bowing” as proof of courage; only later did I understand that knowing when to yield takes more courage than gritting it out.
The Power of Piercing Through
The wise aren’t afraid of being misunderstood, because they don’t live by explanation.
They know that softness isn’t weakness, but a kind of quietly piercing strength.
These thirteen observations are no golden rules. They’re just reminders that, in certain moments when I was stuck, helped me loosen things a little. If you’re struggling hard in some interpersonal predicament, perhaps try the opposite direction—not harder, but quieter.
Quietness is sometimes sharper than any counterattack.
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