The Golden Cage

The lights inside the gold display case are a warm yellow, like aged rice wine, making one's eyes dizzy. Old Liu skillfully wipes the glass, his fingertips caressing each piece of gold jewelry: rings, necklaces, bracelets. They shimmer in the glow, like gilded cages. He has worked here for fifteen years, his daily routine consists of wiping, arranging, introducing, and then watching them being bought, worn, and flaunted.

There are not many customers today, giving Old Liu a rare moment of leisure. He glances at the surveillance monitor, and after confirming no customers are nearby, he secretly pulls a small magnifying glass from his pocket. He bought it from an old customer, who claimed that it could reveal every flaw in the gold jewelry. He carefully raises the magnifying glass, points it at a gold ring, and gently moves it with his fingertip.

On the inside of that ring is engraved a string of tiny numbers. Old Liu squints, carefully making them out. It's a date, he recognizes it, his daughter’s birthday. This ring was a gift from his daughter when she graduated from college. Back then, she had innocently said, “Dad, I want our family to shine like gold in the future.”

Shine like gold? Old Liu gives a bitter smile. His life has long been locked down by this gold. He goes to work on time, gets off work on time, repeating the same actions, saying the same words. He doesn't have time to spend with his daughter, doesn't have time to care about his wife, and doesn't even have time to think about himself. He's like a machine, ruthlessly operated by this glittering shop, by the two words "gold price."

He puts down the magnifying glass, rubbing his sore eyes. The bell at the door rings, and a young woman walks in, heading straight for the display case. She points at the ring Old Liu has repeatedly wiped and asks, "How much is this one?"

Old Liu mechanically states the price, today's real-time fluctuation value of gold prices, accurate to two decimal places. The young woman takes out her phone, scans the QR code to pay, the entire process is like a silent transaction, cold and efficient.

"Who is it for?" Old Liu asks habitually.

"For my future self," the young woman replies without looking up, picks up the ring, puts it on, and then leaves.

Old Liu watches her hurrying back, suddenly feeling a little unfamiliar. Her future self? Once upon a time, he also fantasized about what his future would be like. But now, all he sees is the gold jewelry in front of him and the uneventful passing of each day.

As the sun sets, Old Liu changes out of his work clothes and walks out of the gold shop. He subconsciously touches the magnifying glass in his pocket, the cold metal reminding him that this small object is his only solace in this golden cage. He walks to a street food stall and buys a plate of stir-fried noodles. The stall owner, Old Wang, warmly greets him, "Old Liu, how's business today?"

"Not bad, I guess," Old Liu replies absentmindedly. He looks up at the sky, the only moment of the day where he can relax. Today, the sky is hazy, like a layer of frosted glass, blocking the starlight. He lowers his head, mechanically eating his noodles.

At this moment, his phone rings, it's a video call request from his daughter. He answers the call, and his daughter's bright smiling face appears on the screen.

"Dad, I have to tell you, I've recently been researching a new material that can replace gold, and it’s more environmentally friendly and valuable!" she excitedly shares her research project.

Old Liu is stunned. He looks at his daughter, then at his hands, bound by gold. A strange feeling wells up inside him. He wants to say something, but he finds his throat blocked, unable to make a sound.

"Dad? Why aren’t you saying anything?" his daughter asks with concern.

Old Liu opens his mouth and finally squeezes out a word: "That's great…"

He watches his daughter's happy smile, but he feels empty inside, as if the gold had melted into a liquid, seeping into his bones, devouring him completely.

The call ends, and Old Liu glances up at the sky, still hazy. He puts down his phone and slowly takes out the magnifying glass. This time, he doesn't focus on the ring, but on the back of his own rough hand.

He examines it carefully, discovering that the wrinkles on the back of his hand are like ravines, deeply carved into his skin. Each line records the passage of time, records each day he was imprisoned by gold. He suddenly feels that the lines on the back of his hand are more worthy of being magnified and carefully observed than those gold ornaments.

Suddenly, he laughs, a soft laugh that echoes in the quiet street, carrying a hint of absurdity, helplessness, and a trace of subtle resistance. He puts the magnifying glass back in his pocket, takes a deep breath, and then starts walking home. He knows that tomorrow, he will still return to that golden cage, wiping those glittering chains.