12 posts tagged with "Realism"

Li Hui sat behind the large desk, the hazy silhouette of this southern city visible outside her window. The steel and concrete jungle shimmered faintly in the unique misty dampness of the plum rain season. The case files spread across her desk emitted a mixed scent of paper and ink, a smell she had grown accustomed to over the past fifteen years. She was now Lawyer Li, known for her calm demeanor and rigorous logic, particularly adept at handling "minor cases" involving procedural justice. No one knew that the starting point of her chosen path stemmed from an acceptance letter that had never reached her hands.

The city, this vast labyrinth built of steel and glass, exhales weary neon and clamor at dusk. And deep within the maze, behind an unremarkable window, lived Old Wang. Old Wang, a name as common as a roadside pebble, his existence too, like a pebble, swept along by the torrent of the times, submerged in a corner of the metropolis. He was once a diligent cog in a factory, polishing away half his life in exchange for the tranquility of this small room in his later years, and a string of digits in his passbook—modest, yet enough to console his declining days.

Lao Ma felt this place was a bit like a huge, cold cement box. He hadn't thought that way when they first bought it. Back then, the sales lady's words were sweet as honey. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, shining on the exquisite little model houses on the sand table, bright and full of hope. One million one hundred ninety thousand yuan. It emptied half a lifetime's savings and saddled them with a thirty-year mortgage, but Lao Ma and his wife, Ma Sao, felt it was worth it! For their son's future schooling, for a stable nest for their old age, for putting down roots in this big city – this cement box was their "home," their tangible, heavy future.

Spring in Beijing is as fleeting as a half-woken nap. The wind still carries a lingering chill from winter, nipping at your face, but the hints of goose-yellow and tender green on the treetops clearly announce that spring, after all, has arrived.

Like a sudden high fever, news that the price of gold was about to break the one-thousand-yuan-per-gram barrier quickly swept through the northern industrial city where Wang Jianguo lived. Wang Jianguo, an old master craftsman retired from the state-owned machine tool factory, initially scoffed at it. In his view, gold, apart from adding a bit of "face" for his daughter-in-law at the wedding, had no real practical use. You couldn't eat it or wear it, and keeping it at home meant worrying about thieves.

However, the heat of this "gold rush" permeated his peaceful retirement life in an undeniable way. First, Old Zhang from the neighborhood chess room mysteriously showed off the "small gold bars" he had just withdrawn from the bank, claiming they were "hard currency" against inflation. Then, Old Li, who sold tofu at the wet market, also started muttering about converting his hard-earned savings into "gold beans" to "feel secure." Financial commentators on TV analyzed the global economic situation with modulated tones – the weakness of the US dollar, geopolitical tensions – seemingly endorsing this golden frenzy. Every fluctuating number, every emphasis on "risk aversion," hammered away at Wang Jianguo's originally solid values.

Wang Deshun felt his heart was like that piece of crumbling cement hanging precariously from the windowsill, just waiting to fall with a final "splat." But that sound, it was stubbornly slow in coming.

Dim yellow lights, greasy tables and chairs, the crowded restaurant is filled with a choking smoky smell.

I huddle in the corner, the food in front of me long gone cold. The man at the next table, a middle-aged man with a protruding belly, is puffing away, the ashtray piled high with cigarette butts, like miniature graves.

In 2046, I stood in front of what used to be a Dicos restaurant. Now, it's an unmanned convenience store selling pre-made meals. The cold, robotic arms waved under the dim lights, resembling the opening scene of some apocalyptic movie.

Old Li felt like he was going crazy.

These days, even sleep has become a luxury.