Lifesaving Medicine Rider

Xiao Li's electric scooter, like a weary beetle, navigated the canyons formed by the city's steel and glass. A new order popped up on his phone screen, marked 'Priority Delivery' in golden font. The address was an old, dilapidated residential complex he'd never been to—'Rosemary Garden'. The remarks section held just a few simple words: "Urgent medicine, please be as quick as possible, thank you."

He expertly picked up the package from a brightly lit chain pharmacy. The pharmacist handed him a small, sealed paper bag. It was light, seemingly containing only one box of medicine. He glanced at the electronic waybill: recipient name 'Mr. K,' no specific apartment number, just a unit number: 'Unit 3, top floor.' The pharmacy's lighting was stark white, making the pharmacist's face resemble a blurred mask.

'Rosemary Garden' was more run-down than he had imagined. The stairwell was filled with a mixture of dampness and dust. The sensor lights flickered erratically. As he stepped into Unit 3, darkness enveloped him like a physical entity. He fumbled for the elevator; the button numbers were blurred and indistinct. He pressed the highest one he could feel. The elevator creaked and ascended slowly, as if fighting against some invisible resistance.

Top floor. The corridor was long, narrow, and empty, lined with closed doors like rows of silent eyes. No apartment numbers, only the unit marking. He walked to the end of the corridor, where Mr. K's residence should theoretically be. He knocked on the door. The sound was starkly abrupt in the empty hallway.

No answer.

He knocked again, harder this time. Still dead silence from within. He pulled out his phone and dialed Mr. K's number. Busy signal. Once, twice – always the busy signal.

The countdown timer on his phone ticked relentlessly; the system urged him to complete the delivery. According to regulations, if the recipient couldn't be reached, after waiting ten minutes, he could leave the item at a designated spot, take a photo, and upload it, or return it to the sender. But those words in the remarks – 'Urgent medicine' – pricked his conscience like tiny needles.

He called out towards the door, "Mr. K? Your medicine is here! Delivery!"

Silence. Only the faint vibration of the elevator stopping on some distant floor.

Time passed, minute by minute. Anxiety coiled around him like vines. He imagined possible scenarios behind the door: an elderly person collapsed from a sudden illness? A patient unconscious? 'Lifesaving medicine' – the term magnified in his mind, warping into a heavy burden of responsibility. But the system didn't permit him to break down the door; the rules were like an invisible wall, separating him from the possibilities within.

He looked at the medicine bag in his hand; it felt searingly hot. He couldn't just leave it carelessly by the door; that felt like a desecration of something unknown and serious. Nor could he leave with peace of mind. An absurd chasm had opened between the cold rules of the system and the potential human emergency, and he was suspended above it.

Ten minutes were up. The system prompted him to proceed with the next step. He hesitated. He felt like more than just a delivery rider; he was a messenger standing at a crossroads of fate, yet he knew nothing of the message's content or the recipient's condition, only that it was 'urgent'.

An absurd thought flashed through his mind: Maybe Mr. K didn't exist? Maybe this was just a system error, a maze designed to test him? He shook his head, dismissing the idea.

He decided to return to the pharmacy.

The electric scooter navigated the streets again, but this time the city felt unfamiliar and hostile. Back at the pharmacy, the lighting was still stark white. He found the same pharmacist.

"Hello, I couldn't deliver this medicine. The phone line is busy, and no one's home." He placed the bag on the counter.

The pharmacist glanced at the bag, then at him, his eyes as calm as stagnant water. "Oh."

"I wanted to ask," Xiao Li began hesitantly, "Is this... lifesaving medicine?"

The pharmacist adjusted his glasses, the lenses reflecting the light, obscuring his eyes. "All medicine can be lifesaving in the hands of someone who needs it. Or maybe not. Who knows?" He picked up the bag, turned, and placed it back on some shelf, the movement as smooth as when he had handed it to Xiao Li earlier, as if it were just a routine return.

"But... what if he really needed it urgently?" Xiao Li felt a wave of helplessness.

"The system will handle it," the pharmacist said flatly. "Maybe the order will be canceled, maybe it will be reassigned. The system has its rules."

Xiao Li stood there, feeling like a superfluous part. He had tried to follow the rules, yet he was troubled by something deeper. He left the pharmacy and got on his scooter. A new order had already popped up on his phone, urging him towards the next location.

He started the scooter and merged into the traffic flow. But he couldn't shake the feeling that the pharmacy behind him, the door on the top floor of Unit 3 in 'Rosemary Garden,' hung in his world like a giant question mark. Had he done something wrong? Or rather, had he done nothing at all? He had merely followed the procedure, like a cog engaging precisely, then disengaging.

Maybe Mr. K had just stepped out. Maybe the medicine wasn't that urgent after all. Maybe...

He didn't dare to think further. He looked up at the endless stream of headlights and neon signs ahead, feeling enveloped by an invisible net. He sped up, wanting to escape, but not knowing where to escape to. The hum of the electric scooter, like a long sigh, dissipated into the city's clamor. He had a faint sense that he might never truly 'complete' that last order; it would linger like a ghost attached to his daily routes, like the entrance to a maze he could never reach. That light paper bag might have contained not just pills, but also cold metaphors about responsibility, existence, and the vast machinery of modern society. And he was just an insignificant rider who had carried it, fleetingly, on its journey.