The "Star" Who Didn't Get Out of the Car

"Welcome to the 'Starlight Shines' annual celebration. Please, stars, get out of your cars in an orderly fashion and collect your exclusive nameplates." A sweet female voice echoed in the parking lot, as uniform as the commands of a calisthenics exercise.

Old Li sat in his car, his palms slightly sweaty. He looked out the window. One by one, luxury cars parked, their doors opened, and men in suits and women in glittering jewelry, guided by receptionists, walked towards the red carpet. Each of them wore a smile, like meticulously crafted puppets.

Old Li was also considered a "star." Of course, not the kind of star in the entertainment industry. He was named the "Annual Best Striving Star" by "Starlight Shines," a rather impressive title, awarded to one hundred and seventy-four people every year, along with a gold-plated plastic trophy.

Old Li didn’t understand why he was chosen. He was just an ordinary warehouse worker, spending his days moving between mountains of goods, scanning barcodes, packing, and carrying. He just felt he was getting old, unable to work as hard, and wanted to use this last bit of "starlight" to buy an electric wheelchair for himself and his wife.

Logically, Old Li should have gotten out of the car a long time ago. His license plate number had been announced three times on the loudspeaker, but his feet seemed glued to the floor, unable to move. Outside the car window, the receptionist's smile began to stiffen, and she repeated, "Please, Star Number 22, get out of your car and collect your nameplate."

Old Li looked at the electronic invitation in his hand, which read, "Star No. 22, Li Changfu." “Li Changfu,” this name sounded like it belonged to the last century. His real name was Li Ergou. He changed his name to Li Changfu when he came to the city to find work. He felt like a fake product, mixed into this carefully arranged farce.

He looked in the rearview mirror. He saw his aging face and his hands, wrinkled and worn. He suddenly remembered that his wife had passed away six months ago. The electric wheelchair was no longer needed.

“Star No. 22, please get out of the car!” The receptionist’s voice rose an octave, with a hint of impatience.

Old Li suddenly raised his head. He saw on the red carpet in the distance countless "stars" smiling at the cameras, each smile a copy-paste, artificial and jarring. He suddenly felt an inexplicable disgust, surging from the bottom of his heart.

He rolled down the car window, and the receptionist’s face came closer, her eyes more impatient. "Why haven't you gotten out of the car yet? Everyone is waiting for you!"

Old Li smiled, and pulled out a rusty key from his pocket, the standard issue of a warehouse worker. He looked at the receptionist, his gaze deep and calm: “I won’t get out of the car. I just want to see what ‘starlight’ really looks like.”

The receptionist was stunned. She seemed unable to understand how a "star" could refuse to walk on the red carpet. She wanted to say something, but Old Li had already rolled up the car window and slowly started the car.

He drove slowly out of the parking lot. In his rearview mirror, he saw the receptionist standing there dumbfounded, while the "stars" on the red carpet continued to smile at the cameras.

He drove down the long street. The tall buildings on both sides looked like huge stone tablets, engraved with the absurd symbols of this era. He recalled his wife holding his hand before she passed away, saying, “Old Ergou, we are like shooting stars, we will disappear soon."

Old Li looked up at the sky and sighed softly. He hadn’t disappeared; he just hadn't gotten out of the car.