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China Elevator Stories
This Is How I Lived in Tai’an (Shandong Province)
Let me introduce you to my former flat in Tai’an, Shandong Province, China.
25/09/2025
Ruth Silbermayr
Author
Do you sometimes find yourself envying those who seem to have it better than you? Ever since I encountered the first malignant narcissist (my ex-husband)—whom I later recognized as such—my life has been irrevocably altered. I cannot help but feel a pang of envy for those who claim never to have crossed paths with a narcissist and whose lives unfold in apparent normalcy.
My life bears little resemblance to what it once was—or, indeed, to what I believe any human life ought to be.
All I desire is a quiet existence, one aligned with what is healthy for me. Yet narcissists possess the capacity to erode even this most basic aspiration.
Observing the lives of certain individuals on YouTube—residing in expansive homes, driving luxurious cars, providing effortlessly for their children, and enjoying all necessary support—can, understandably, engender feelings of inadequacy. It is tempting to measure ourselves against such apparent ease and to feel deficient when we cannot replicate it.
However, when one has, by unfortunate circumstance, encountered too many narcissists, the result is often the same: they dismantle your life to the point where you are left either dead, nearly dead, or with your life in ruins.
Upon my return to China to teach, I was relieved to have an apartment provided by my university, as is customary at most institutions here. My advice is to avoid contracts in which housing is not included, as it is typically a standard provision.
The apartment itself was far from luxurious. I slept on a rigid mattress, cooked in a tiny kitchen, and showered over a squat toilet. Yet I remained grateful: I had a place to call home and need not concern myself with the burdens of rent.
There were, nonetheless, a few notable advantages. From my apartment, I enjoyed a breathtaking view of Taishan Mountain. Moreover, the apartment’s door was exceptionally secure—a significant comfort, particularly given prior threats to my life from my Chinese ex-husband.
As for theft, I harbored little concern, largely due to the prevalence of face scanners and security cameras. These devices, now ubiquitous in China, required me to scan my face each time I entered campus. Their sophistication is remarkable; they can recognize an individual even when obscured by sunglasses or viewed from multiple angles.
While I am not an advocate of pervasive surveillance and am a firm believer in true freedom—a world in which individuals are not perpetually observed—I must concede that, under circumstances in which one’s life is threatened, such systems may provide a measure of protection. They may compel potential aggressors to reconsider their actions, though certainty remains elusive.
When my sons visited, the apartment’s modest dimensions posed no inconvenience to them. I had provided ample books and enough toys to occupy their time, and they delighted in jumping upon the bed, indifferent to the diminutive kitchen.
I, too, rarely found the accommodations burdensome. Having lived in numerous flats that were similarly small or uncomfortable in China, I occasionally yearned for a truly comfortable home, yet I recognized the difficulty of securing such a space in China. Considering the high cost of living in Central Europe, the absence of rent obligations was a considerable blessing.
I am aware that many envy those who are more successful, more attractive, thinner, or in loving relationships. Such concerns scarcely affect me, for I am not focused on outward success and enjoy nothing more than being single (something a few narcissists seem to feel I “don’t have a right to be”). Success is meaningful only when it is accompanied by a fulfilled, purposeful life. Blogging, for me, for example, is not a pursuit of accolades or social recognition; it is an expression of personal enjoyment and engagement with the craft itself.
This principle extends to those I enjoy reading or watching—whether online or offline (in the case of authors): individuals who create not for external validation, but for the intrinsic satisfaction of their endeavors. Motivation rooted solely in status or superiority is invariably empty, whereas a person who truly loves their craft creates from an internal wellspring of purpose.
What I do envy, however, are those who possess a home that genuinely feels like a sanctuary—a place where privacy is respected, tranquility can be enjoyed, and family life can unfold without interference from narcissists. I also envy those who live free of financial anxiety, who need not constantly negotiate the demands of monetary survival (not the wealthy, since wealth alone does not bring happiness).
I strive to temper feelings of envy, for I have not always been so inclined. Yet in recent years, surrounded by envious and resentful narcissists—individuals perpetually dissatisfied and incapable of contentment—I have struggled to reclaim a sense of inner peace.
I have also experienced a great deal of anger and hatred from others—particularly for being a mother and an acclaimed blogger. Now, it’s not as if my blog is huge, but once petty people see that you have a blog and that a story of yours appeared in a book, they tend to blow things out of proportion. They become envious of your perceived “extremely huge” success and view you as far more successful and powerful than you truly are.
It is quite laughable when you consider what my daily life actually looks like. Yet, in the eyes of envious people, everything is worth envying—even things they could create for themselves from within. Anyone with basic writing skills (and now, even those without, thanks to tools like ChatGPT) can create their own blog if they have internet access. If you’re not good at writing but are good at speaking, you can start your own YouTube channel.
I don’t care about any of that “outer status” that narcissists associate with these things—but they do. When others feel envy, an empath will often absorb their feelings of envy, even when it is not something we wish to experience constantly.
Have you ever lived in a tiny flat?