Some say the Manchu people faded away because, after dominating China for centuries, they began learning the Chinese language. As they gradually absorbed Chinese culture, their own Manchu language declined and eventually vanished—and with it, their ethnic identity disappeared. Teachers used to say that we, too, were once a powerful nomadic people who had dominated for hundreds of years—could we be headed down the same path? When I first started learning Chinese, I was baffled by how foreign words were rendered: tank—坦克—Tánkè; Paris—巴黎—Bālí. Some terms were translated literally, not phonetically—North Face—北面—Běimiàn (Northern Face); Apple—苹果—Píngguǒ (Apple fruit)—as if directly translating meaning into the native tongue. There was no attempt to preserve the original sound. We, on the other hand, just use the English words directly and speak them as-is... And as for personal names? Forget it. Take Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky: 费奥多尔·米哈伊洛维奇·陀思妥耶夫斯基—Fèi'àodé'ěr·Mǐhāyìluòwéichí·Tuōsīwǎoyífūsījī. They insist on reproducing the full phonetic approximation, syllable by syllable. I couldn’t even pronounce “Mikhailovich” properly—I just gave up. Now I think: isn’t this state policy terrifying? All those efforts to mimic, to force foreign words into native phonetics—it’s exactly what I once found so strange. But isn’t that thought itself already part of the same mindset? Why? Because these people refuse to mix foreign words into speech; instead, they translate every foreign term into their native language and use it exclusively—so there’s no need to learn foreign languages at all. It’s truly astonishing: even children are actively defending their mother tongue’s purity. But isn’t this approach leading not to greater strength, but to cultural isolation and eventual decline? Our ancestors were profoundly wise. “Who is rich with language, border, and livestock? The Mongol.” They spoke this philosophy in a way only a Mongol could fully understand. We must cherish our mother tongue and remain true to our homeland.