23 posts tagged with "Social News"

The wheels of time roll forward, sweeping everyone along. These days, even drinking a cup of coffee is no longer pure.

A dusky sky hung low, threatening to crush the parched land. This reservoir in Sichuan, once a vast expanse of shimmering water, was now crisscrossed with cracked lines, like the wrinkles on an old man's face, telling tales of time's merciless passage. The receding water level, a symbol of drought, unexpectedly unveiled a twist of fate – an ancient tomb, emerging from the depths.

In 2000, the dawn of the new century pierced the sky. Amidst the silence, a baby's cry announced the arrival of a new life. He was born under the spotlight, crowned the "Century Baby," seemingly carrying the blessings and expectations of the entire era. The media's flashbulbs followed every moment of his growth; his life was preset on a bright and smooth path.

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.

Liu Tiezhu felt his life was like a repeating decimal, endlessly repeating the monotonous rhythm of gifting, chatting, and gifting again. Until he met "Little Sweetheart."

Under the dim light, Sun Haiyang hunched over, staring intently at his phone screen. It was a faded photo of a child with a bright smile, his eyes sparkling like stars. It was his son, Sun Zhuo, a child who had been abducted fifteen years ago.

In this day and age, you can even buy underwear with mold spots. What's wrong with this world?

The rich aroma of butter churns in the boiling red broth, tempting like molten lava from hell. This is Haidilao, renowned for its impeccable service and rich flavors, a sanctuary in the hearts of countless diners. However, amidst this bustling scene, a desecration is quietly brewing.

Sunlight was mercilessly blocked by heavy, lead-gray curtains, leaving only a few faint rays of light leaking through the gaps, like a lingering gasp of hope. The room was filled with the stale smell of coffee grounds and the lingering scent of anxiety.

Old Wang is an honest pork vendor who gets up at three o'clock every morning, rain or shine. His biggest wish is to save enough money for his son to buy a small apartment in the city. The pork knuckles he sells are always a dime cheaper than others, and the neighbors like his small but heartwarming benefit.

That day, as usual, Old Wang tapped "34.00" on the electronic scale. He squinted, looked at the jumping numbers on the screen, and calculated today's harvest in his heart. A customer hurried over, glanced at the pork knuckles, and dropped a sentence: "WeChat transfer!"