A wealthy top director from Beijing invites his younger brother, a Shaanxi repair stall owner, to live a comfortable life, but the brother refuses to leave his small business.
At a bike repair stand in an old alley in Shaanxi, a man with graying hair was crouched on the ground tightening screws on a bicycle, his hands caked with grease that had seeped into the creases between his fingers.Zhang Yimou’s older brother—the brother of a renowned film director worth over 100 million—had made a special trip from Beijing to pick him up and take him to live a life of luxury. Without even looking up, he simply waved his hand, telling his brother not to miss his return train.
Few people know that this middle-aged man, who runs a small auto repair stand spanning just a few square meters, could have secured a comfortable life for the rest of his days simply by agreeing to his older brother’s request—yet he chose not to accept this opportunity that others would have begged for. Many have speculated in private that there must be some unresolved rift between these two brothers.
Zhang Yimou and his younger brother grew up in a rural area of Shaanxi. They lived and worked together through thick and thin for more than a decade. Zhang Yimou seized the opportunity to join an arts troupe early on, starting as a handyman who moved crates on film sets,enduring decades of hard work to gradually rise to his current position of renown both at home and abroad, with industry connections that others can scarcely hope to match.His younger brother, on the other hand, learned the trade of auto repair when he was young. From running a stall at the end of an alley in his early twenties to now, with gray streaks at his temples, he has spent decades barely ever leaving this small space of just a few square meters.One has spent his entire career in the creative world under the spotlight, with every aspect of his life—food, clothing, housing, and transportation—managed by his team. Not only can he easily secure a home and a livelihood for his younger brother, but even the kind of preferential treatment others wouldn’t dare to dream of is, for him, nothing more than a simple gesture.The other, however, spends his days crouched by his stand, patching tires and adjusting chains, earning a meager living, penny by penny. His daily interactions are limited to neighbors and locals; he’s never had any time for social obligations. The two have followed completely different life paths, and the stark contrast in their circumstances strikes even bystanders as astonishing.
Neighbors
he knew well had all tried to talk him out of it, saying, “Your older brother is so successful—what’s wrong with riding his coattails a little? Is it really worth it to endure this hardship, crouching on the ground day in and day out, exposed to the wind and sun?” In reality, the brothers had never been estranged, nor was the younger brother simply stubborn or unable to distinguish between what was important and what wasn’t.Every time Zhang Yimou returned home, his first stop was always the bike repair stall at the end of the alley. He’d pull up a small stool and sit for a while. On several occasions, he made it perfectly clear to his younger brother: whether it was the county seat, the provincial capital, or Beijing—any place he chose—he had already bought a house there and arranged for a livelihood,so he’d never have to tend the stall, braving the wind and rain, ever again.
Every time Zhang Yimou brought this up, he would wave his hand—wiping the grease off it—and, without urging the other person to hurry and catch the bus, would lower his head and continue tightening the screw in his hand. His expression showed neither envy for a life of luxury nor the slightest hesitation.If anyone else had been offered such a great opportunity, they probably would have accepted it immediately. Many people speculated behind his back, wondering if he was being overly formal with his own older brother, which was why he refused.In reality, it wasn’t a matter of keeping a distance at all; it was simply that the two brothers had each chosen the path that suited them best. The older brother had devoted his entire life to his art, single-mindedly focused on creating works that would stand the test of time, and had long since poured all his energy into the day-to-day affairs of his film crews.The younger brother, on the other hand, had long made up his mind not to be swept up by the fame and fortune of the outside world. For him, tending to his stall at the end of the alley and living a simple, down-to-earth life was the most peaceful state of being. Neither choice was more noble, nor was either life more difficult; they were simply each living according to their own destiny, finding their own place in the world.
Today, the older brother, Zhang Yimou, is still pulling all-nighters on set, fine-tuning the details of his new film, while the younger brother is still at the car repair stand at the end of the alley, fixing tires and adjusting brakes for the neighbors who stop by.The two have never tied each other down, nor have they ever forced the other to accommodate their own needs. Their brotherly bond has not been diluted in the slightest by their vastly different circumstances; on the contrary, it is far more genuine than many family relationships held together by shared interests.In the course of a lifetime, one sees plenty of relatives who rush to get close when someone becomes wealthy, and plenty of blood brothers who turn against each other over family inheritance—but brothers like them are truly rare.
