In the 21st century, there is no survival problem at all, but humans haven't become easier because of it—instead, they live more tiredly.

The greatest absurdity of the 21st century is that humans spent thousands of years putting all their effort into solving the survival problem.
We defeated tigers, domesticated wheat, built cities, invented the light bulb, laid water pipes, created antibiotics, and wove the internet.
Now, an ordinary person, if willing, can live to seventy or eighty years old at very low cost in a temperature-controlled room, eating food from all over the world and consuming the entertainment of all humanity.
This is an achievement never seen before in human history. Go back a few hundred years, and even the emperor of any dynasty couldn't live as well as you do today.
For most of human history, people drank river water, well water, and rainwater, which contained sand, insect eggs, feces, and corpses.
You now take tap water for granted, but your ancestors might have been bedridden for half a month or simply didn't survive after drinking a mouthful of dirty water.
The same goes for three meals a day. For most of history, people ate only two meals a day, or even one—not because they didn't want three, but because they couldn't afford it.
Working from sunrise to sunset, with little fat in the stomach, they couldn't last that long.
Only after industrialization, when grain output increased, logistics networks expanded, and refrigerators became widespread, could ordinary people reliably eat three meals a day.
Before the invention of the light bulb, darkness was just darkness itself; candles and kerosene lamps were luxuries.
Your grandfather might have written articles and letters by oil lamp, carefully adjusting the wick and reluctant to let the light get brighter.
What about cooking with fire? You had to go up the mountain to chop wood—exhausting.
Medicine goes without saying. Now when you catch a cold, you go to the pharmacy, buy a box of medicine, take it for two days, and you're better.
But your ancestors might have died from pneumonia because there were no antibiotics then.
Hospitals today are imperfect, but compared to the era when "if you get sick, you just tough it out—survive and it's fate, die and it's fate too"—you're already living in heaven. The same goes for social order.
In ancient times, traveling far might mean never coming back. Bandits, roving rebels, war, clan feuds—these things were normal in history, not exceptions.
You think strolling on the street after dark is a human right, but actually, someone has solved urban order to the point where you don't feel it. Not to mention the cheap entertainment and knowledge brought by the internet and smartphones.
99% of human history has been troubled by the basic problems I mentioned above. Compared to the past, the present is almost heaven.
So I say that in China in the 21st century, there is no survival problem at all.
Theoretically, you need only a minimal amount of social resources to live until old age.
But the most absurd thing is that even after the survival problem is solved, everyone is still desperately striving for things beyond survival—because the system won't let you stop.
It solved the "survival needs" not to set you free, but to raise the bar and make you fight for new "necessities."
The system solved your survival problem not to make you happy, but to free up your energy to pursue the new goals it defines.
You can't starve? Good—now "being full" doesn't count; you have to "eat well"—organic, imported, Michelin.
You won't freeze? Good—now "not leaking rain" doesn't count; you have to "live well"—three bedrooms, two living rooms, a school-district apartment, renovated.
You have clothes? Good—now "keeping warm" doesn't count; you have to "dress well"—brands, trends, social status.
You won't die from a simple infection? Good—now "being able to treat illness" doesn't count; you have to "prevent disease"—checkups, personal trainers, supplements, anti-aging.
The stomach can be filled, but your desires are never sated.
You live in a temperature-controlled house, but you feel only a grand villa qualifies as a human dwelling.
You have freedom of water and electricity, but you feel inferior if you don't drive a BBA.
You originally only needed to solve the problem of "staying alive," but the system tells you it's not enough—you also have to live as a successful person in others' eyes.
So "lying flat" has become a luxury. Not a material luxury, but a spiritual luxury.
For a person to dare to do that means they must withstand layers of pressure from parents, society, and peers; they must accept the anxiety of "others running while you rest"; and they must fight against the code implanted since kindergarten: "You must be better than others."
Your mom always says, "Other people's kids are working hard—how can you be shameless enough to lie down?" Your classmates always say, "You're so young and already like this—don't you think you're wasting your life?" You scroll through a short video, and it's all about "what young people earning 100k a month did right."
The whole society forms an invisible wall, with words on it: "Not striving is shameful."
So what "lying flat" needs most isn't money—it's a strong psychological shield—an ability to block all those "you shoulds." And most people don't have that shield.
They live in a new kind of scarcity—not lacking food or shelter, but lacking the "confidence to be themselves in peace."
Those who truly live freely aren't better off because they have more money, but because they've figured out one thing: "Not starving is enough. The rest is anxiety imposed by the system."
I hope all my readers can see through this: Eat when hungry, sleep when tired, have a place to live, have clothes to wear, and occasionally eat something good—that's enough.
The rest is just made up by others to trick you into working. But most people can't see through it.
They've been trained since childhood to be involution machines, always comparing, always anxious, always chasing. Even though they already have a life that their ancestors wouldn't dare dream of, they still feel they've failed.
Because they compare their own day-to-day with others' video thumbnails, their real life with the life others display. Not to mention the cooling blow of AI on humanity now.
After the real survival problem is solved, humans face a more difficult problem—how to confront that endless "meaning anxiety"?
When you no longer have to go all out just to stay alive, what should you live for?
Not only does school not teach this, but it also trips you up.
In plain words, the system doesn't want you to figure it out—because once you do, you'll never be willing to be its beast of burden again.