Zhao Pu began his life as a wanderer at a young age, moving from Huangshan and Chizhou in Anhui to Hefei, and eventually residing in Beijing. He was always on the move. As a child, he loved to challenge physically larger boys. Even when pinned to the sandy ground, his bare arms rubbed raw against the sand, causing him to grimace in pain, he refused to give up. This upbringing forged his creed: either surrender, or become strong.
At the age of 16, Zhao Pu joined the army. During a banquet, his slightly non-standard Mandarin caught the attention of a superior, leading to his transfer to the broadcasting room of the regiment's political office. This experience sparked his passion for broadcasting.
After retiring from the army at 19, Zhao Pu worked in the personnel department of the Anhui Gymnasium for four years, serving retired cadres. His role often involved farewells. When a retired cadre passed away, he had to console the family, contact the funeral home, and arrange wreaths. Often, after leaving the funeral home, he would remove the white flower from his chest, jump onto a bus, and sprint to the broadcasting room of the Anhui Meteorological Observatory. He would put on a microphone and professionally broadcast the next day's weather forecast. For this three-minute part-time appearance, he often endured long, exhausting commutes.
At 23, Zhao Pu did not receive a notice of contract renewal. He was unexpectedly laid off. This may have been due to his candid work style or his lofty artistic ideals. In the same year, his father passed away. Having written obituaries and bowed in respect for other fathers, and having witnessed many partings and deaths, he still found his tears hot when facing his own father's death.
“Dad was called 'Old Zhao' his whole life. He didn't live to see others change their address to 'Master Zhao' before he left.” From then on, he walked alone through difficult times. He sold goods on the street, sold toys, hitchhiked on trains, and lived in basements. In Beijing alone, he moved 13 times… “I am a master of moving; my speed is incredibly fast!”
Zhao Pu once wrote in his diary to express his feelings: “In my childhood, my father toiled for our livelihood, being sent from the provincial capital to the rural mountains, then to a small riverside city, and back to the provincial capital… When I was in middle school, our family gradually reunited, and life became stable. At that time, I was arrogant and felt that my father was rigid and unable to adapt, honest but lacking in wisdom… After retiring from the army, I experienced employment, layoff, university education, and re-employment, gradually understanding the world. Looking back on my childhood, I realize that my father enlightened me with wisdom and taught me integrity. I feel ashamed of myself and wish I had been more devoted to pleasing him. But by then, my father was already frail and aged, shrouded in the twilight of life.” He concluded with: “Life lies only in the span of a single breath.”
