Kuangyi (Guagua) Bo Happy Father’s Day! We are used to being in a long-distance relationship, from as far back as I could remember. Then, as now, the miles between us have never diminished the power of our bond. When I lived with grandparents in Beijing and you were in Dalian, our relationship was physical. We “fought” hard. You wielded an arsenal of moves - the “One Finger Gong,” the “Tickle Fist” - which I countered with “Monkey Hops,” until my inevitable defeat by your finisher - the “Thousand Pound Anchor” - left me pinned and awaiting rescue from an unimpressed mother. I missed you, but I learned to rationalise your absence by accepting that the city of Dalian was your first duty. That sentiment was encapsulated in a poem I wrote for you at nine. I recall it still because you recited it so often, and always to my embarrassment: In twilight’s hush, families meet; One courtyard alone lacks a father’s greet. Return after the morrow he has vowed; But duty prevails over the longing son. By the time you and ma moved back to Beijing, I was at boarding school in the UK. I thought I knew everything - except my own ignorance. I brushed off your broken-record compliments on how I could “use a computer”, or how my English was getting better than yours. I wanted to rather impress you with the bit of economics I studied, so I wrote a precocious essay on how to resolve the trade war with the EU that you were handling. During one school break, ma was away, leaving you and I alone for ten days. We competed in dawn push-ups, sit-ups, and teeth-chattering cold showers. I made toast dipped in bacon grease for breakfast that I perfected ruing school breaks, and you whipped up eggs and tomatoes on hand-pulled noodles for dinner, which supposedly recalled our Shanxi roots. I thought years of boarding school had inoculated me against homesickness, but after those ten days, it reared its ugly head again - the mere thought of you brought heartache. I was back in prep school days, hiding in the bathroom to cry after a showing of The Snowman. An abominable film! When the family moved to Chongqing, I was in university. You finally began treating me as an adult. I scheduled time with the office and we’d take long walks around the bamboo-lined yard. The conversations were invariably asymmetric: I pricked my ears to you recitals of Wen Tianxiang, Fan Zhongyan, Tan Sitong; to your lectures on duty, country, and all that; and to your interminable warnings about safety and not becoming like one of those despicable brats. Back then, I was eager to step out of your shadows, just as I saw you once stepped out of yeye’s. Now, after thirteen years of “solo levelling,” and relishing every step with fibrous intensity, I’ve finally earned the confidence to bask in the warmth of your shadow.
父亲节快乐！
自记事起，我们便习惯了相隔千里的父子相处。昔日如此，如今亦然 - 距离从未削弱我们的牵念。
那时你和妈在大连，我留在北京。我们的感情是“打”出来的。你使出“一指功”，“咯吱拳”， 我回敬“猴跳”，终被你的“千斤坠”锁死，只得等在袖手傍观的妈妈救我。我想你，但也学得理智应对，因为我明白，大连才是你的首要职责。为此，九岁那年，我写下一首你逢人便念、让我羞到想遁的诗：
时晚民子遇， 独院无父存。 要知答明归， 做真忘盼儿。
等你和妈回到北京，我已在英国寄宿学校。你爱夸我“会用电脑啦”，“英文赶上我了”， 我总不以为然。那时我最自以为是了，学了点皮毛经济学，便写篇自以为高明的论文，教你化解手里的中欧贸易战。
一次假期，妈妈出差，家里只剩你我，我们相依为命十天。我们早起比赛俯卧撑、仰卧起坐、冲冷水澡。我早餐做培根油面包， 你晚饭做西红柿炒蛋。我以为多年住校早已免疫乡愁，可那十天之后，只要想到你就心口发疼，仿佛又回到早期住校，躲进厕所，因看《雪人》而啜泣的那会儿。
家迁到重庆时，我已上大学。你终于把我当成人看待。我每跟办公室约好时间，跟你在院子里散步。对话多半单向 —我听你背诵文天祥、范仲淹、谭嗣同的诗词，讲对家国职责的情怀；听你告诫出门注意安全，严厉防止纨绔子弟的行为。
当年我急着挣脱你的背影，想像你当初在爷爷背影后闯出，自己拼一条自己的路一样。十三年来，我得以索偿，爽快的、淋漓尽致的自我发挥。 今天，终于有足够自信，享受在爸爸背影下的温暖。
Kuangyi (Guagua) Bo
Happy Father’s Day!
We are used to being in a long-distance relationship, from as far back as I could remember. Then, as now, the miles between us have never diminished the power of our bond.
When I lived with grandparents in Beijing and you were in Dalian, our relationship was physical. We “fought” hard. You wielded an arsenal of moves - the “One Finger Gong,” the “Tickle Fist” - which I countered with “Monkey Hops,” until my inevitable defeat by your finisher - the “Thousand Pound Anchor” - left me pinned and awaiting rescue from an unimpressed mother.
I missed you, but I learned to rationalise your absence by accepting that the city of Dalian was your first duty. That sentiment was encapsulated in a poem I wrote for you at nine. I recall it still because you recited it so often, and always to my embarrassment:
In twilight’s hush, families meet; One courtyard alone lacks a father’s greet. Return after the morrow he has vowed; But duty prevails over the longing son.
By the time you and ma moved back to Beijing, I was at boarding school in the UK. I thought I knew everything - except my own ignorance. I brushed off your broken-record compliments on how I could “use a computer”, or how my English was getting better than yours. I wanted to rather impress you with the bit of economics I studied, so I wrote a precocious essay on how to resolve the trade war with the EU that you were handling.
During one school break, ma was away, leaving you and I alone for ten days. We competed in dawn push-ups, sit-ups, and teeth-chattering cold showers. I made toast dipped in bacon grease for breakfast that I perfected ruing school breaks, and you whipped up eggs and tomatoes on hand-pulled noodles for dinner, which supposedly recalled our Shanxi roots.
I thought years of boarding school had inoculated me against homesickness, but after those ten days, it reared its ugly head again - the mere thought of you brought heartache. I was back in prep school days, hiding in the bathroom to cry after a showing of The Snowman. An abominable film!
When the family moved to Chongqing, I was in university. You finally began treating me as an adult. I scheduled time with the office and we’d take long walks around the bamboo-lined yard. The conversations were invariably asymmetric: I pricked my ears to you recitals of Wen Tianxiang, Fan Zhongyan, Tan Sitong; to your lectures on duty, country, and all that; and to your interminable warnings about safety and not becoming like one of those despicable brats.
Back then, I was eager to step out of your shadows, just as I saw you once stepped out of yeye’s. Now, after thirteen years of “solo levelling,” and relishing every step with fibrous intensity, I’ve finally earned the confidence to bask in the warmth of your shadow.
实在共鸣不了这些官二代富二代的困苦。
都是矫情。
父亲
旧日辉煌付笑谈， 高墙冷月影阑珊。 经年梦绕燕归处， 望断天涯父子关。 白发新添愁绪远， 丹心不改骨风寒。 此生未尽人间道， 唯愿清明照玉盘。
哈哈，瓜娃子，too simple, sometimes naive
最清廉，最穷的太子二三代，也是极度奢侈的，钱这东西对他们，从来不在考虑范围，不是做事的限制因子。
瓜瓜算是穷的，但手里的钱估计也是个天文数字，不然以台湾人的精明，不可能嫁他。
这种直接就扣下了。他肯定不敢回国。
平西王肯定没有经济问题，他们家真想要钱，就说句话就够了，一堆人巴巴的送钱，根本不需要自己亲手贪腐。
最近情况很不一样啊 油管经常给我推送缅怀李克强的视频 现在瓜瓜都公然缅怀父亲了！
是不是要出大事了？
他如果没有经济问题，海伍德和徐明说不定还活着
可能身边人怂恿，进谗言
李克强胡锦涛陈良宇的后人应该还好
展开谈谈
团派出身的，是最清廉的是真的。未来估计没什么团派了，太子党会一统天下。
早更吧，看那头秃的
团派已经被习派团灭了，没有了
胡春华最近有回春迹象
薄熙来就爱表现，谷开来也是。薄瓜瓜以前和陈云的孙女陈晓丹谈恋爱，那也是轰轰烈烈，到现在都有一堆照片在网上。和陈晓丹分手后，曾经和美国驻中国大使的女儿约会，开红色法拉利，还在约会中对女孩动手动脚，搞得大使极其愤怒，到处说薄瓜瓜品行不好。
就算是父母出事了，他远在哈佛，还是要一篇一篇的写小作文，为父母辩护 -- 问题是你父母是好父母 与 他们犯罪并不冲突啊？还说他过的是普通学生生活，没有奢侈，从没开过红色法拉利。问题是在哈佛上学期间，他就吃过至少3个交通罚单，开的是新款Porsche. 真是普通的学生生活啊！
相比之下，习近平他家就低调得多。不是说习家不贪哈，习家必然也是自然而然的奢侈，但人家起码不会发文否定。
只能这样时不时出来扑腾一下，供人取笑
别的不论，川普把对华智库那些人都开掉太正确了，完全没用
爸妈都在人家大牢里蹲着，嫌爸妈死得不够快？
行为做事幼稚的不像一个正常的成年人。
什么rumor？
薄熙来他妈也就是瓜瓜亲奶奶也是小三上位。他们整个家族一屁股S，只不过日子有点久了现在的网民都不太了解。瓜瓜是要给大家重新上课呢。
不都是这样，包子老娘也是小三上位。不如数数谁不是小三