The Bench-Sitting Movie Emperor

Li Jianguo held his small stool as if he were holding an old comrade about to go to battle. The cinema entrance was crowded, with most people carrying folding chairs, small stools, and even someone pushing a stroller with a low stool sitting securely on top. Ever since the old cinema in the county launched "seatless tickets," going to the movies had become a performance art.

Li Jianguo was a copywriter at a small advertising company in the county, writing nonsense like "Buy one get one free, don't miss out" every day. His life was as square and plain as this stool. After learning about the cinema's bizarre rules, he had a subtle expectation. Perhaps, behind this absurdity, there was some unspoken meaning.

The ticket inspector, used to this sight, glanced at the ticket in Li Jianguo's hand and then at the small stool in his arms, saying numbly, "Go in and find a place yourself." The movie hall was packed, with stools scattered everywhere, like a unique flea market. Li Jianguo carefully found a gap, put down his stool, and found himself the center of attention.

The woman behind him, with sunflower seed shells flying around, pointed at him and asked, "This young man's stool is so new, where did you buy it?" The young people in front of him, winking and making faces, gave him a thumbs up: "Dude, you've got taste!" Li Jianguo smiled awkwardly, feeling like a monkey in a zoo being watched.

The movie started, a no-name sci-fi film with five-cent special effects and a dragging plot. But Li Jianguo watched with relish, finding himself incredibly focused, more focused than when he was at work.

Suddenly, a loud bang in the movie caused a stir in the hall. Li Jianguo was distracted, his stool wobbled, and he fell to the ground. He quickly got up, rubbing his sore bottom, but found everyone staring at him, not mocking, but surprised, even with a hint of admiration.

Someone started applauding, and then the whole hall erupted in enthusiastic applause, accompanied by whistles. Li Jianguo was stunned. He had just fallen, how had he become a hero?

The lights came on, and a middle-aged man in a suit walked onto the stage, holding a microphone, his face full of smiles. "Dear viewers, our cinema, to thank you for your enthusiasm, has launched a 'Bench Movie Emperor' event." He pointed at Li Jianguo and said, "This gentleman, that fall just now, was dramatic and worthy of an Oscar-winning performance! May I ask, which theater group are you from?"

Li Jianguo was completely dumbfounded, stammering, unable to speak. The applause from the audience grew louder, with some shouting, "Do it again!"

"It seems this gentleman is too excited." The middle-aged man said with a smile: "Our cinema has decided to hire Mr. Li as the chief 'Bench Experience Officer' of this cinema, with a monthly salary of 30,000, including meals and accommodation, and the daily responsibility of falling three times in the cinema."

Li Jianguo felt like he was dreaming. He had just come to the cinema to watch a movie and had unexpectedly become the "spokesperson" for a high-paying job. He suddenly understood that this absurd cinema might be the real stage. And he, Li Jianguo, had leapt from a copywriter writing nonsense to a "Bench Movie Emperor." The absurdity of fate was nothing more than this.

He looked around at the envious and jealous eyes, and a sense of unprecedented absurd pleasure rose in his heart. It turned out that life was like this cinema, you never knew what would happen next. And the so-called "seatless ticket" might just be a metaphor, everyone carrying their own life stool, striving to find their own stage.

In the days that followed, Li Jianguo wore a suit every day, held a script, and researched how to fall more like a "Movie Emperor", more "artistically." He even started live streams online, talking about his journey as a bench experience officer.

One day, he unexpectedly saw the ticket inspector in the cinema, holding a stack of new "seatless tickets" with a faint smile on her face. Li Jianguo walked over and asked, "How do you think my performance is?" The ticket inspector didn't even look up, saying in a flat tone, "Everyone is the same, we're all just acting for a living." Li Jianguo was stunned. He suddenly felt that his falling posture was so ridiculous. He looked around, and on every stool sat an actor, all trying to perform their roles. And he was just one of them.