The Disappeared Filter

At six-thirty in the morning, before the alarm clock went off, Anqi was already awake. To be precise, it was her subconscious "short video alarm clock" that woke her up. She didn't even need to open her eyes to feel the vibration of the phone beside her pillow, a vibration like some invisible command, making her immediately reach out and light up the screen.

The familiar interface popped up, the brightly colored icons jumping on the screen like a group of excited little sprites. She opened TikTok, which had become almost the first thing she did every day, more important than brushing her teeth or washing her face. The first video pushed to her today was "2025's Trendiest Makeup," and Anqi skillfully followed the steps in the video, applying various colors of cosmetics to her face.

She adjusted the angle repeatedly in front of the phone screen until she looked flawless in the lens. The beauty filter seamlessly covered the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, smoothed out the blemishes on her face, making her look like a delicate porcelain doll. She squeezed out a sweet smile at the camera, and contentedly "clicked" and uploaded it to her social media account.

For the rest of the day, Anqi's life was filled with various short videos. When eating, she would turn on the food filter to make the food look more tempting; when working, she would use the workplace filter to make herself look more professional; even when walking, she would use the environment filter to make everything around her look poetic.

She was immersed in this perfect world and enjoyed it immensely. Every night, she would practice various expressions and movements in her small room, trying to shoot more popular short videos. In this virtual world, she found unprecedented confidence and happiness.

However, all of this came to an abrupt end one ordinary morning.

That day, when Anqi opened TikTok as usual, she found nothing on the screen. Instead, there was a cold notification: Due to certain policy reasons, TikTok will cease operations in the United States.

Anqi was stunned. She looked at the phone screen blankly, like a puppet that had suddenly had its soul taken away. She tried restarting her phone, uninstalling and reinstalling the app, but nothing worked. The colorful world she was used to seemed to have been wiped clean by a huge eraser.

Without filters, she could no longer see her carefully modified appearance. She looked in the mirror, scrutinizing herself for the first time. The fine lines at the corners of her eyes were still there, and the acne scars on her face were still clearly visible. She felt like she had been stripped naked, exposed to the real sunlight.

She began to feel an unprecedented panic and fear. She didn't know how to face her true self, nor how to face the world without filters.

For the next week, Anqi's life was in chaos. She could no longer post short videos at will like before. She felt like she had lost something important, and life became dull.

She tried to go out for a walk, to experience the real world. She found that without filters, everything around seemed a bit rough and imperfect. The trees by the roadside were no longer so lush, the sky was no longer so blue, and even the air seemed to have lost its sweetness.

She began to try to pay attention to the people around her and communicate with them. She discovered that everyone had their own story, their own joys, sorrows, and happiness. She began to slowly accept her true self and slowly integrate into the real world.

One evening, she was walking home. The streetlights shone on her face, casting a long shadow. She suddenly stopped, looked up at the sky. Without the embellishment of filters, the stars were still twinkling, and the moon was still round.

She smiled, the first genuine smile she had had in a long time. She realized that true beauty does not need the cover of filters, and true happiness does not come from the virtual world.

She pulled out her phone, the screen still blank. She didn't open any apps, just quietly looked at the screen. Her true face was reflected in the screen, no longer perfect, but real and vivid.

Suddenly, a faint sound came from the phone, very weak, like some kind of electrical noise, or like a forgotten piece of code. Anqi curiously clicked on that area.

A small line of text flashed on the phone screen: Welcome back, filters are updating, please wait patiently...

Anqi looked at the line of text, her smile frozen at the corner of her mouth, a kind of indescribable chill rising from her spine. She understood that this was not the end, but just the beginning of a new cycle. She was back in that "perfect" world. Only this time, she knew that perfection was just an illusion, and she could never go back again.