My father achieved today's achievements through his own struggle. Because my grandmother died prematurely, my father, who was still a teenager at that time, was more sensible and knew the meaning of struggle. At the age of fourteen, he came out to learn to cook. He told me that he was stupid when he was a child, and others could learn it by burning a fire once. He had to learn it more than ten times. Everyone else went out to play, but he stayed, stuffed coal balls over and over again, lit them over and over again, and burned his little hands red, either not or too bright, burning half his eyebrows. He also wanted to give up, but the idea of struggle and the idea that he could live a happy life through his own efforts were forbeared. That's how my father got to where he is today.