Can climbing Mount Tai these days really make you a fortune? Have you heard? A 26-year-old guy made over 300,000 yuan in a year by accompanying people climbing Mount Tai. This whole thing feels novel, and also a bit strange.

我是在一个阴郁的下午知道这件事的。收音机里播着爵士乐，Miles Davis 的小号声像雨滴一样敲打着我的耳膜。新闻播报员的声音平淡得像白开水，却说着一个荒诞的故事：郑州，一辆双层巴士，隧道，被削顶。

我把车停在路边，点上一支烟。烟雾缭绕中，我仿佛看到了那辆巴士，像一头误入陷阱的巨兽，在隧道的黑暗中挣扎。车顶被整齐地切开，像一个被打开的罐头，露出里面惊恐的面孔。

Elon Johnson, an accountant whose name is so ordinary it disappears into a crowd, hits a wall in his fortieth year – a wall built of dollars, yet harder and colder than concrete.

Before the sun even peeks out, the foot of Taishan is already crowded with silhouettes of people. There are shivering college students wrapped in military coats, tour guides holding small flags, and old ladies carrying baskets selling water and flatbreads. But among this crowd, the most eye-catching is Xiaoliuzi.

老李头是个顶顶较真的人。年轻时候在厂里做工，差一分一厘都不行，做出来的零件，那叫一个严丝合缝。后来厂子倒了，他下了岗，在街边开了个小卖部，卖些烟酒糖茶。

阿黛尔小姐的体重计，就像一面哈哈镜，扭曲着她的人生。四年前，这面“镜子”上显示的数字让她痛下决心，开启了一场与脂肪的“圣战”。

我第一次听说那个号码，是在地铁里。两个穿着西装的男人，像是刚从哪个写字楼的玻璃幕墙里挤出来，带着一身的疲惫和咖啡渍。

“你猜怎么着？”其中一个说，声音压得很低，却还是钻进了我的耳朵，“有个手机号，尾号全是7，拍卖了二百多万。”

I felt the earthquake at 3:17 PM.

At that time, I was sitting at my computer, trying to finish the ending of my novel. Outside the window was the uniquely gloomy sky of Chengdu, like a gray towel soaked with water, pressing down heavily. The air was filled with the mixed smell of hot pot base and damp earth, the familiar scent of Chengdu.

Under the overpass, in a teahouse, several old-timers sit around a table, sipping strong tea, cracking melon seeds, and chatting.

Li Ming looked up, rubbed his sore eyes, and glanced at the time in the lower right corner of his computer screen—20:58.

"Two more minutes..." he thought to himself, feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation.