Alex Wu, G8 吴萌

When we hear the phrase “a true friend,” many faces may arise in memory. Yet what defines one? A lifelong childhood companion? A steadfast presence through hardship? Someone whose care rivals family? To me, a true friend is all these—and something more: one who understands your innermost self and speaks to your soul. In Chinese, such a person is called a confidant. An old proverb asks, “How many confidants does one truly have in a lifetime?” Perhaps one—or none. That is why finding a confidant is a rare and precious gift.

This bond is beautifully captured in the ancient story “Bo Ya Breaks His Zither.” During the Spring and Autumn period, the master zither player Yu Boya could conjure flowing streams and birdsong with his strings. But no one understood the heart behind his music, leaving him deeply lonely. One day, as he played on a boat, his melody swelled like towering mountains, then eased into a gentle, winding river. Noticing a woodcutter standing transfixed on the bank, Boya paused and asked, “Can you understand my music?”

The woodcutter, Zhong Ziqi, replied, “The first movement was as majestic as Mount Tai; the second flowed like vast, surging rivers.”

Astonished, Boya played pieces of wind and rain—each time, Ziqi perceived his intent perfectly. “You are my confidant!” cried Boya. “In all the world, only you understand me.” They talked through the night and vowed to meet again in one year.

When the day came, Boya returned, but Ziqi was nowhere to be found. He learned that his friend had passed away. Heartbroken, Boya went to Ziqi’s grave and played one final tune. As the last note faded, he lifted his zither and shattered it against a stone. “Now that my confidant is gone,” he whispered, “for whom shall I play?” He never touched the instrument again.

This tale reminds us that to be truly understood is rare—a fortune to be cherished.

I, too, once found such a friend. We met through football. When I dribbled, others saw only the motion—he saw the delicate touch of my toes. When I looked to pass, he was already sprinting to the exact space I imagined. When I shot, others watched the outcome—he understood the angle, the curve, the precision of the strike. On the field and beyond, we realized we understood each other without words. We became true confidants.

So I say this: a confidant is rare in a lifetime. If you find someone who truly knows you—who reaches your soul—hold them close. Cherish them. And never let go.