Level One: Education teaches you how to look at the game, but doesn't give you the position of a player.

China's education system has a rare feature worldwide: it covers an extremely broad range, trains intensely, but has very narrow outlets.
From elementary school to high school, twelve years of rigorous training elevate your logical thinking and analytical abilities.
An ordinary high school graduate may surpass many university graduates in abstract thinking.
And then? The college entrance exam is a one-shot deal.
People who get into prestigious universities or drop out early due to family reasons, their brains have already been trained.
They have the ability to understand complex systems and perform deep analysis.
But their jobs don't require these skills; their positions don't let them make decisions; their income doesn't reflect their cognitive level.
You were taught to see the chessboard clearly, but you're not a chess player.
You're a pawn. And you know you're a pawn.
This is the first absurdity.
Level Two: Smartphones let you see the whole world, but the entry ticket hasn't changed.
Twenty years ago, a young person from a small town and a child from a middle-class family in Beijing saw two different worlds.
The former didn't even know those ways of life existed.
Now? On the same phone screen, everyone sees the same world.
You can see how top investors analyze the market, hear university professors talk about economics, and observe how wealthy people think and decide.
The information gap has been flattened.
But flattening the information gap doesn't flatten resource disparities.
You understand what "leverage" means, but you have no capital.
You grasp the logic of "the first pot of gold," but your savings aren't enough to try mistakes once.
You understand that "choice is more important than effort," but there are no good options in front of you.
The real effect of information democratization isn't making everyone successful, but allowing the lower classes to clearly see why they can't succeed.
The gap between your vision and your situation is bigger than in the era of information asymmetry.
This is the second absurdity.
Level Three: Between cognition and action, there are three mountains.
Our society always says: as long as you're smart enough, hardworking enough, and insightful enough, you should change your fate.
That's false.
From "knowing" to "doing," at least three things stand in the way:
Capital, or tolerance for mistakes.
People with a foundation at home can fail in entrepreneurship and try again.
If you have elderly to support or siblings to provide for, your tolerance for error is zero.
It's not that you're afraid to take risks; you simply can't afford to.
Connections.
All good opportunities and resources ultimately come through people.
If you're working at the bottom, your colleagues and friends are also from the bottom, and their information and endorsements are extremely limited.
You know that networks are important, but you can't get in.
Time and energy.
Someone earning five thousand a month spends most of their energy on "survival."
They’re worried about next month's rent, let alone "delayed gratification" or "investing in themselves."
That's easy to say, but impossible to do.
The most expensive thing for the poor isn't money; it's the tiny bit of energy left after being overwhelmed by survival pressures.
That's why many highly intelligent poor people only stay at the "knowing" level, finding it hard to reach the "doing" level.
It's not that they don't want to act; they truly have no bandwidth left.
Level Four: Society doesn't actually need that many "smart people."
This might be the cruelest level.
Many highly intelligent poor people have an implicit belief: the world should reward the smart.
I can analyze problems so well that society should give me a position worthy of me.
But the reality is: the current economic structure doesn't demand "high-cognition labor" as much as you think.
China's economy is large, but most jobs don't require deep insights.
They need obedience, execution, and repetition.
Positions that truly require high cognition—strategy, investment, research, product design—are few, with extremely high thresholds (prestigious schools, networks, certificates), and fierce competition.
Society has cultivated many with cognitive abilities but hasn't created enough positions that require this kind of cognition.
Oversupply.
Where do the surplus go?
Deliver food, drive Didi, do customer service.
It's not that they aren't qualified for better positions; it's that those positions simply don't exist enough.
Level Five: High cognition is sometimes not an advantage but a torment.
When you see too clearly but can't act, several forms of self-destruction occur:
Analysis paralysis.
You see all the possible failures, so you don't take a single step.
Others rush in because they "didn't think so much," and sometimes succeed by luck.
You overthink, and it drives you to despair.
Cynical resignation.
"Seeing through it all, effort is useless."
Covering helplessness with an attitude of having seen everything.
It's not that I can't compete; I just don't want to.
This mindset is especially common among young people.
Addicted to the pleasure of cognition.
Analyzing problems itself can bring pleasure.
Scrolling through Zhihu, watching analysis videos, discussing macro trends—these make you feel "progressing."
But these activities don't produce any real benefits.
Turn off your phone, and everything remains the same.
The pleasure of cognition is a cheap psychological compensation.
It makes you feel spiritually belonging to another class, temporarily forgetting your real position.
But the debts still need to be paid.