In the small room of that old residential building, there was a workbench that had accompanied Ah Qiang for many years. The paint on the desktop was mottled, and there were some marks of bumps and knocks in the corners. However, the memories it carried were extremely precious.
When Ah Qiang had just graduated from university, full of ambitions and longing for the future, he rented this small house. And this workbench then became the place where he strived. On countless days when he burned the midnight oil for projects, he bent over the workbench, with materials and drawings covering the desktop, and his pen kept writing and drawing. In the sweltering summer, sweat dripped onto the workbench, but he didn't bother to wipe it off; in the freezing winter, his hands and feet were numb with cold, yet he still held on.
Whenever Ah Qiang encountered setbacks at work, being severely criticized by his boss, or when a project failed and he returned home feeling extremely dejected, he would gently lean his head against the workbench. At that moment, it seemed as if the workbench could absorb all his exhaustion and sadness, offering him silent comfort. And when inspiration struck, he would immediately write vigorously on the workbench, recording every brilliant idea.
Later, Ah Qiang's career gradually picked up. He had the opportunity to move into a spacious and bright office building and use brand-new and high-end desks. However, he was always reluctant to discard this old workbench because it had witnessed his most inexperienced and hardworking days. It was the warmest companion in his long years, the harbor where his dreams set sail. It quietly stayed in that small house, waiting for Ah Qiang's occasional return, to relive those days full of sweat and hope, and also enabling everyone who heard the story to recall that indispensable struggling corner in their own lives, touching the softest part of their hearts and feeling the power of perseverance and growth.
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