The orphanage sponsorship project in Indonesia has finally been settled.

When I stepped into the small compound on the edge of the tropical rainforest, I saw the children being well cared for—board smiles, bright eyes, running toward me with cheerful enthusiasm to offer hugs. That moment brought back memories of years ago, when I first started supporting several orphanages in Shanghai. It was a very different scene—those institutions housed abandoned children, most of whom appeared dazed and emotionally shut down. Lacking long-term companionship and love, they seemed like forgotten little shadows growing up silently in the corners.

I still remember the first time I brought my then three- and five-year-old sons into one of those orphanages. They were so frightened by the atmosphere that they almost burst into tears, clinging tightly to me, unwilling to go any closer. They instinctively felt the heaviness and suffocation in the room. No matter how hard the staff tried, it was nearly impossible to meet the needs of every child.

In China, one major reason for abandonment is disability. Congenital heart disease, physical deformities… these were the most common cases I encountered. It was rare to see a completely healthy child abandoned. Perhaps they existed—but we never knew where they went.

In contrast, the orphans here in Indonesia go to school every day and enjoy various activities. Their lives, though simple, are filled with sunlight and sound—singing, running, and laughing.

That day, I also paid a visit to a foundation focused on retraining vulnerable groups. Because of some unexpected work added to my schedule, it wasn’t until I walked into the meeting room that I realized I was wearing a cheap black beach top that cost only a few dozen yuan. But just as I’d expected—no one gave me a second glance. In fact, even I hadn’t noticed this “improper attire” until then.

Maybe it’s because life here is so natural and authentic. No one cares about brands or appearances. Most of the people I met on this land are not wealthy. Some even ride four hours a day just to save 300 yuan a month in rent. But their faces often wear gentle smiles, their pace is unhurried, they enjoy conversation, and they are willing to listen.

Sometimes I think: the true hardship in life doesn’t come from poverty itself, but from what we carry inside our hearts.

In my eyes, the people who suffer the most are often of two kinds:

Those trapped by yesterday,

And those overwhelmed by worries of tomorrow.

If a person cannot live in the present—if their heart is torn by time, their soul drifting between the past and the future—then they will never find solid ground beneath their feet.

And here, I saw a gentle reminder: life can be simple.

Food on the table, someone to love, something to look forward to.

“To make a child laugh out loud, to help an adult find peace in their heart.”

After the visit, two things made me keep thinking:

• When seeing these healthy and lively children in the Bali’s orphanage, has anyone ever thought: if even such children can be abandoned by their parents, where are those disabled or sick orphans?

• All the children seen in the two orphanages were healthy, with no disabled children in sight. Do these orphanages only accept healthy children, or is there another hidden story?

We will give these questions to students, guiding them to reflect on the purpose and significance of public welfare, as well as the reasons behind different foundations’ choices. As the new generation of charity leaders, how should they view these phenomena?