The Vanishing Meal Kits
Lao Li has been feeling very uneasy lately.
He's just an ordinary office worker in the city, working nine-to-five, with his only hobby being eating. Due to his busy work schedule, food delivery has become an indispensable part of his life. He especially loves braised chicken rice; the rich sauce and tender chicken always soothe his tired body and mind.
However, recently he's noticed that the braised chicken from his usual restaurants tastes increasingly bland, and the chicken has become dry and tough, like some kind of... pre-made thing. He started paying attention to the news and saw reports about "undercover reporters on braised chicken rice," and his heart skipped a beat. He vaguely felt that what he was eating might not just be food.
He started trying to cook for himself. But strangely, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't replicate the taste of the delivered food. It wasn't that he was missing any ingredients, or the heat was wrong, it was just... something was off. He searched for recipes online and followed the steps meticulously, but the results were still disappointing.
Even stranger things started happening.
He found that the food he ordered, no matter which restaurant he chose, tasted increasingly similar. Not just the braised chicken, but even other cuisines, and even businesses on different platforms, all seemed to come from the same kitchen. He began to suspect, were all these deliveries coming from the same place?
He decided to investigate.
He used the addresses on the delivery slips to find some of the restaurants. However, what he saw were not bustling kitchens, but empty storefronts, and some of the addresses didn't even exist. He felt a chill, as if he had been sucked into a giant vortex.
He started having insomnia.
During the day, he went to work as usual, dealing with endless reports and emails. At night, he lay in bed, his mind filled with the similar-tasting deliveries and those empty storefronts. He felt like he was trapped in a huge maze, unable to find the exit.
One day, he was eating at a small restaurant downstairs from his company.
He ordered a braised chicken rice. The owner was an elderly woman, and she asked him with a smile, "Young man, has it been a long time since you've had freshly stir-fried food?"
Lao Li was stunned. He watched the aunt skillfully toss the wok, the flames dancing in the pan, releasing an enticing aroma. He suddenly realized that it had been a long time since he had smelled this kind of "smoky aroma" (the essence of freshly cooked food).
He took a bite, and tears almost welled up in his eyes.
It was a long-lost taste, real, intense, and carrying the warmth of life. He finally understood that what he had been searching for all along was not convenience and efficiency, but something real, something tangible, something alive.
He looked at the aunt's busy figure and suddenly remembered a word: alienation.
He felt like K in Kafka's novel, trapped in an absurd castle, unable to escape. He was swept up by the fast pace and consumerism of modern society, losing his perception of real life.
He finished his meal and walked out of the restaurant.
The sun shone on him, warm and pleasant. He took a deep breath and felt that even the air had become fresher. He decided that from now on, he would cook more for himself and order less delivery. Even if he was busy, he would take the time to experience real food and feel the warmth of life.
He knew it wouldn't be easy.
In this era, too many things are simplified, replaced, and hidden. We eat meal kits, but we don't know where they come from; we read the news, but we don't know what the truth is; we live, but we don't know what we are actually pursuing.
But at least, he started trying.
He began to search for the truth behind those disappearing meal kits, to search for the alienated fragments of life, to search for the most authentic things that we have forgotten.
He knew that this road would be long and difficult.
But he believed that as long as we don't give up searching, we will definitely find it.