roseAuthor: Zhang Aijia
I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth.
My acting career is on a roll, and I’m living the dream that everyone else is chasing after.
When you take all of this into account, my feelings about my life make sense.
All of these things mean that I essentially belong to the public, regardless of my feelings or personality.
At 30, a subtle shift occurred in my mindset, marking the beginnings of a profound transformation.
I’m no longer satisfied with the endless freedom of riding off into the sunset whenever I feel like it; I suddenly decided that I wanted to have a baby.
At the age of 37, I gave birth to my son Wang Lingchen. His English name is Oscar, because I am in show business, and Oscar is also the name of the highest honor in this business.
From the first time I held him in my arms, I planned out his future.
I wanted him to be the best child actor he could be.
I started with the most subtle and deliberately cultivated elements.
When my son was 5 years old, I introduced him to the public.
That year, I was invited to visit refugee villages in northern Thailand, and I took him with me.
While filming, I memorized some of my son’s lines and then pointed the camera at him.
After the show was broadcast on TV, Oscar immediately became a sensation due to his carefully staged part in Hong Kong. Everyone thought he was a genius.
Immediately after my success in Hong Kong, I brought my son back to Taiwan, took him to a children’s fashion show that was being sponsored by an international brand, and put him on the runway.
The major media outlets reported on this, and overnight, Oscar became a popular celebrity in Taiwan.
In the following days, I made good use of my own popularity, sparing no effort to promote my son, whose performance was also commendable. He soon became a child star.
And then, a terrible thing happened: my son was kidnapped on his way to school.
Despite the kidnapper’s repeated threats not to call the police, after much deliberation, I notified the police, who quickly apprehended the kidnapper.
When I opened the box where he had hidden my son, I gasped – the kidnapper had prepared the incense paper in the box. (Incense paper is used at funerals in my culture.)
It was clear that the kidnapper wished to waste no time in killing my son, once he had received the money. I would never have gotten him back; my child would have been buried immediately after his murder.
Holding my lost son, I had no strength left to cry.
The kidnapping was so traumatic for my son that he became anxious constantly. He was no longer willing to appear in public with me, and would go straight to his room and lock the door when he came home.
It hurt my heart to see my son like that. While before he had not had a care in the world, he now feared that the whole world was out to get him. I consulted many psychological experts, and all of them gave me the same advice: give him time and get him therapy.
I did my best to stop crying and told myself: No big deal, God has been very generous in returning my son, alive, to me.
I found myself bringing him up based on the instinct of maternal love; I had loved him before, but a lot of my actions had been done for fame. Now I just wanted to make sure that he was happy; I worked very hard to ensure that he was so.
Instead of eating the more elegant steak for dinner, we would have kid-friendly hamburgers. I invited his classmates over to play games. I used to despise his classmates for not being rich, well-dressed, and having elegant manners, but now his happiness was paramount, and they made him cheerful. The fact that they were not part of high society like myself and my family no longer mattered. I no longer put my child on a strict schedule; his musical lessons and other instruments of fame were no longer of prime importance.
When we visited Egypt, we rode a camel together and looked at the Sphinx before we saw the pyramids, because that was the itinerary he was comfortable with.
My son sat in front of me, leaning against my arms. The camel’s hair rubbed against his calves. I let him lean back so that he was half lying in my arms, petting the camel. He moved his head slightly and said: “Mom, thank you.”
His words stunned me. I had coached him to be the best student in his school, made him a child star, and was ready to empty out my bank account to pay for his ransom, but he didn’t thank me for any of that. As he lay in my arms in the desert at sunset, however, he thanked me from the bottom of his heart.
His “thank you” suddenly made me feel that what I had done for him in the past few years was worth all of the fame in the world.
It was this kind of life that made my son feel happy and satisfied.
After three years of recovery, my son was finally cured.
With my son’s recovery, I, too, changed radically. I became less of an attention seeker, learned to understand and sympathize, and became mature and reserved.
I have finally grasped the secret to happiness: it’s not about the glitz and glamor but about finding peace in the simple moments of life. I was unhappy with my life before, but I am not now.
幸福快樂的含義
作者：張艾嘉
我是含著金湯匙出生的人。
演藝生涯順風順水，別人拼命追逐的東西，我手到擒來，
順理成章。
這些都讓我成了一個張揚的人，無論感情還是性格。
30歲那年，我的心態忽然有了微妙的變化——
我不再滿足飛車勁舞的日子，忽然很想有個孩子。
37歲，我生下兒子王令塵，英文名奧斯卡因為我是演藝圈裡的人，而奧斯卡是演藝界的最高榮譽。
從第一次把他抱在懷裡，我就為他計劃好了未來的路——
我要他成為最好的童星。
我從最細微處著手，衣食住行樣樣刻意培養。
兒子5歲那年，我把他推到了大眾面前：
那年，我應邀前往泰國北部採訪難民村，我帶他隨行。
拍攝過程中，我把部份台詞讓兒子背熟，然後將攝像機對準他。
節目在電視台播放後，香港頓時轟動，所有人都覺得他是天才。
在香港成功後，我隨即帶著兒子殺回台灣，帶他參加了一個國際品牌的童裝展示會，並讓他上台走秀。
各大媒體對此大肆報導，一夜之間，兒子紅透台灣。
以後的日子裡，我利用自己的知名度不遺餘力地打造兒子，而他的表現也可圈可點，很快成為童星。
可是這時發生了一件可怕的事情～兒子在上學的路上被綁架了。
儘管綁匪一再威脅不許報警，我再三斟酌後，還是通知了警方，警方很快將綁匪擒獲。
當我打開兒子藏身的箱子時，倒吸一口涼氣～綁匪已經在箱子裡準備好了香燭冥紙。
很明顯，他們已經做好收到錢就撕票的打算。
抱著失而復得的兒子，我連哭的力氣都沒有了。
綁架事件對兒子造成了極大的刺激，他變得有點神經質，再也不願意與我一起出現在任何公眾場合，一回家就鑽進自己的房間鎖上門。
看著以前舉重若輕的兒子，如今草木皆兵，我的心疼了又疼。
諮詢了很多心理專家，得到的建議，只有一個～時間療法。
我收起眼淚，告訴自己：沒什麼大不了的，老天已經對我很寬厚了，把活生生的兒子還給了我。
我開始學著以母愛的本能和他共處，一切的一切都是為了讓他高興，由著他去做想做的事情：
擯棄牛排去啃漢堡包；請同學來家裡鬧得翻天覆地；和以前我嗤之以鼻的不富貴沒氣質的同學打成一片；穿便宜的T恤和牛仔褲；不再在我的監督下練樂器，苦著臉去聽交響樂……
有一次在埃及，我們共騎一峰駱駝，在金字塔前端詳獅身人面像。
兒子坐在前面，靠在我懷裡。
駱駝脖子上的鬃毛蹭得他的小腿發癢，我讓他將腿盤起來，半躺在我懷裡，左手幫他撫摸著蹭紅的小腿，右手輕輕地摸著他的頭髮，兒子忽然動了動，把腦袋往我的胸前擠了擠，夢囈般地說：「媽媽，謝謝。」
我讓他成為全校最優秀的學生，他沒有謝我；我讓他成為童星，他沒有謝我；我曾打算傾家蕩產去交贖金，他也沒有謝我。
可就在落日大漠裡，靠在我懷裡的時候，他由衷地感謝我。
一句「謝謝」，頓時讓我覺得所有的榮耀都無法與之相提並論。
我發覺這樣的生活，才讓兒子真正覺得幸福和滿足。
3年的恢復，兒子終於痊癒了。
隨著兒子的痊癒，我也發生了根本的變化。我不再張揚，學會了理解和同情，變得成熟和內斂⋯
也終於懂得了幸福含義：「平靜」
