Ma Liansheng‘s Weight Loss Compensation

Beijing was still Beijing, just with more cars, taller buildings, and perhaps a little less of that leisurely vibe under the old locust trees where people used to walk their birds or play chess. Ma Liansheng, forty-five years old, was doing alright, not great, crunching numbers in a company that was neither big nor small, decently managing the mortgage on a place still a couple of miles shy of the Fourth Ring Road. His physique, much like his life, had decently put on a bit of timber.

This prosperity had mainly settled around his waist. His wife would constantly nag, "Old Ma, look at that belly of yours! A couple more years and you'll have to turn sideways to get through the door, won't you?" Ma Liansheng would chuckle, patting his paunch, but feel a bit sour inside. Who wouldn't want to be the trim young man they once were? But life, it's like kneading dough; it unknowingly molds you until you're plump and round.

One day, during his midday break, Ma Liansheng was scrolling through his phone when his eyes were caught by a flashy advertisement – "Lose weight on Meituan, expert meal plans, limited-time challenge! Fail to lose XX jin in XX days, the platform compensates you!" Below it was a picture: a chubby fellow, and then, a few weeks later, wow, transformed into a sharp-featured, energetic young man. The string inside Ma Liansheng that longed to be 'trim' again was plucked.

"Compensation?" he muttered. "Is there really such a good deal nowadays?" He wasn't new to dieting. He'd starved himself dizzy, practically drooling at the sight of his neighbor's zhajiangmian (noodles with soybean paste), only for what? The needle on the scale seemed glued in place, refusing to budge. But this time, they mentioned "compensation." That was different. It felt like insurance; if it didn't work out, maybe he could at least recoup his costs?

That evening, he told his wife about it. She pursed her lips. "Oh, give me a break. With your start-and-stop approach? Better not be a scam."

"But it says they'll compensate!" Ma Liansheng insisted, slightly agitated. "It's written in black and white! Besides, what if it works? If I lose weight, won't that reflect well on you too?"

His wife gave him a couple of glances and sighed. "Fine, give it a try. Just don't end up paying the price, going through the ordeal, and not losing an ounce."

Ma Liansheng felt a surge of determination building inside. Alright then! I'll show you all! He opened the app, chose a modest goal, and paid the fee. A couple of days later, the first "expert meal plan" arrived. An exquisite little box. Opening it revealed a few slices of boiled chicken breast, some startlingly green broccoli florets, and a small clump of brown rice. Ma Liansheng picked up a piece of chicken and chewed. It tasted like wax. He thought to himself: even an immortal would lose weight eating this stuff.

And so the days began. Breakfast was whole-wheat bread with skim milk. Lunch was boiled vegetables with brown rice. Dinner... dinner was the easiest: starvation. Ma Liansheng felt like an ascetic monk. During meetings, his uncooperative stomach would grumble, making the young colleagues beside him chuckle. Passing the steamed bun shop downstairs, the aroma of freshly baked meat buns was practically the devil's siren call; it took all his willpower to tear his gaze away. At night, his dreams were filled with braised pork, roast duck, hot pot lamb. He'd wake up to find half his pillow damp.

Seeing his pitiful state, his wife felt a mix of sympathy and amusement. "I say, Old Ma, is it really necessary? Maybe we should just stop?"

"No way!" Ma Liansheng clenched his back teeth. "I've paid the money, got to stick with it! Besides, what if they really compensate?" His own little calculations were still running in his head.

Days turned into weeks. Ma Liansheng felt lighter, almost walking on air. He started secretly taking out a pair of trousers he'd bought years ago but hadn't dared to wear since, holding them up against himself. Hey, they seemed a bit looser! He was ecstatic inside, as if he could already see himself transformed back into that trim young man.

Finally, the designated last day arrived. Ma Liansheng got up extra early, didn't even dare to drink much water, and with a heart full of excitement and apprehension, stepped onto the scale. Squinting, he slowly lowered his gaze... The needle swayed, finally settling on a number.

Ma Liansheng froze. He'd lost weight, definitely, but he was still short of the "XX jin" target, just by a little bit. Not much, just that tiny bit. His heart sank, like reaching a mountain summit only to find a taller peak looming just beyond.

"Didn't make the target..." he murmured.

His wife came over to look. "See, what did I tell you? Just missed it. But you did lose weight, that's not a bad thing."

But Ma Liansheng's heart felt heavy. Losing weight was one thing, but the promised "compensation"? That had been one of his main pillars of support! He took out his phone, found the order, and clicked "Apply for Compensation."

The screen refreshed, displaying dense blocks of tiny print – things like "must upload daily photos of all three meals," "must provide a medical report from a designated hospital proving...", "must..." Ma Liansheng's eyes glazed over. How could he possibly remember to take photos every day? He'd been too hungry to even think about it! And a medical report? They hadn't mentioned that before!

He tried contacting customer service. After a long wait, a sickeningly sweet voice answered, "Hello sir, how may I help you?"

Ma Liansheng explained the situation. The customer service lady replied robotically, "Sir, according to our activity rules, you need to provide complete documentation proving you strictly followed..."

"But I did follow them! I ate nothing but your 'grass' every day!" Ma Liansheng started to get worked up.

"Then please provide the photos and relevant proof, sir," the voice remained sweet, yet carried an icy undertone.

"I... I didn't take photos every day!"

"Then we apologize, sir, but according to the regulations, we are unable to process your compensation claim."

"Isn't this a rip-off? The advertisement didn't say it was this complicated!"

"Sir, all rules were clearly stated before you participated in the activity. By checking the agreement box, you indicated that you had read and understood..."

Holding the phone, listening to the spiel that seemed designed never to be wrong, Ma Liansheng suddenly felt a wave of powerlessness. It felt less like talking to a person and more like pushing against a smooth, impenetrable wall. A wall covered in rules, cold, hard, effortlessly bouncing back his little bit of hope and grievance.

He hung up and sat numbly on the sofa. Outside, the clamor of Beijing continued. It sounded like people arguing downstairs, maybe over a parking spot or some other trivial matter. Life was still life, full of various frustrations and absurdities.

His wife handed him a steaming bowl of noodles, topped with a golden fried egg. "Eat something," she said. "After all this trouble these past few days, you should replenish yourself."

Looking at the bowl of noodles, Ma Liansheng suddenly felt ravenous. He picked up his chopsticks and began slurping hungrily. So fragrant! This was real food!

After finishing the noodles, he patted his stomach. It seemed a bit rounder again. He sighed, then couldn't help but laugh. Laughing at his own petty schemes, at his unrealistic fantasies, and also at this world, which always seemed to find new ways to get your hopes up for nothing.

There would be no "compensation." The suffering had been real. As for the weight, a few pounds lost, they'd probably be back in a couple of days. But inside Ma Liansheng, it felt like something else had been shed too. It was hard to put into words, a feeling of emptiness, yet somehow, also of being more grounded.

Alright then, better just live life steadily. If he was a bit fat, so be it. At least it was something solid, earned bite by bite. More real, anyway, than those flashy, empty promises. Thinking this, he let out a contented burp, feeling that the Beijing night wasn't so hard to bear after all.