Mourning Cao Han
Chen Liqun
Onthe night of December 31, 2025
,Cao Han suddenly passed away, on the last day of 2025.
When the news arrived, I was momentarily speechless. It wasn’t a tearing shock, but a sudden collapse—someone who had just thought he could finally live slowly was suddenly gone.
After his status was approved, we drank and chatted. He said, “Big sister, I’ve been walking home for twenty years.” Twenty years isn’t enough; I need at least five or six years. Only after passing the civics exam will I dare to go home and take a look. At
that moment, my heart ached, and tears fell uncontrollably.
I know he actually quietly returned to it.
But that kind of “return” can’t be spent long, can’t be flaunted, and certainly can’t be at ease. It’s not going home, but cautiously approaching again and again—one glance and then leaving, one stop and you’re afraid. A truly meaningful homecoming was still distant and luxurious to him.
Thirty years of wandering is not just about the length of time, but also a long-term form of self-restraint.
Suppress homesickness, hide fear, and make “wait a little longer, endure a little longer” a basic attitude in life.
Cao Han was very capable and hardworking.
He worked as a chef, opened a restaurant, and later ran a winery. During the pandemic, he sold the winery, hoping to take a break and live a leisurely life. It was a moment when he finally allowed himself to relax, but unexpectedly, fate did not give him that chance.
A friend told me it was nasopharyngeal carcinoma. He had only been in the hospital for three days before he passed away.
Three days were too short to say goodbye, too short to truly settle the long-held hopes.
What hurts most is not just the sudden onset of illness, but the path she has walked for twenty years, which she clearly saw the direction of the path, was mercilessly cut off. All those plans about “later” or “going back to take a good look” were all stuck on the road.
Cao Han’s life was without noise, yet he always lived earnestly;
Without being flashy, she walked every step steadily and arduously.
He represents so many people who walk silently in a foreign land—capable, patient, and humble in their work, carrying both dignity and fear on their shoulders.
Now, he no longer had to count his years, no longer had to worry about his status, and no longer had to keep a low profile.
May his journey be pain-free and fearless, and may all unfinished journeys be compensated in another world.
Weeping for Cao Han.
It wasn’t because he left suddenly, but because someone who had worked hard to live never truly “came home” in peace.
May you rest in peace.
We remember the path you walked.