31 posts tagged with "Social Observation"

The old library in the east end of the city had seen some years. Its dusty grey brick walls and tall windows exuded a quietness, but also a stubborn sense of being out of step with the times. Most people who came here were familiar faces: retired old gentlemen and ladies seeking a quiet spot to read the newspaper; students preparing for exams, hunkered down all day; and idlers like me, with nowhere else to go, who came here pretending to still be seeking knowledge, but really just killing time, staring blankly at the old locust tree outside the window.

Six seventeen in the morning. The alarm hadn't gone off yet, but I was awake. Outside the window, the sky was a thin, washed-out blue-gray, like something laundered too many times, carrying a hint of hungover fatigue. This city is always like that, waking up reluctantly. It seemed my body housed its own alarm clock, more precise and more stubborn than the mechanical thing on the bedside table.

K first noticed the fridge magnet on the partition of his colleague Wang's office cubicle. It was a brightly colored, slightly clumsy-looking cartoon character, grinning an overly brilliant smile, with a nonsensical motivational phrase printed beside it, something like "Keep it up today, duck!" or similar. K only glanced at it at the time, feeling rather indifferent, even thinking such things were childish. The office cubicle was already cramped; sticking something like this on it made it seem even more crowded, almost... desperate. A kind of futile desperation, trying to combat monotonous reality with cheap colors and slogans.

When Wang Jianguo received the water bill, he initially thought it was a misprinted joke. On the off-white paper, in neat standard font, a string of numbers was clearly printed: 39,390 yuan. The payment deadline was next Wednesday. He read it three times, then checked his phone calendar again. Yes, it had only been eighteen days since they moved into this new home, into which they had poured half a lifetime's savings.

I stare at this outdated gadget in my hand, its screen edges curving elegantly downwards, like the hem of a shy girl's skirt, or perhaps less flatteringly, like chronically malnourished ribs. Once upon a time, this curve was touted as a rainbow bridge to the future, the ultimate embodiment of technological aesthetics. Salesgirls, spitting effusively, claimed this arc held the universe's mysteries, allowing you to feel the pinnacle of ergonomic care in your grip, as if this phone wasn't for scrolling short videos and checking food delivery reviews, but for direct calls to God. I must admit, I believed it back then. Or rather, I wanted to believe. People have to believe in something, even if it's just a curved piece of glass. Just like when I was young, I believed love could last forever, only to discover it was even less resilient than this piece of glass.

Lao Li felt that this Qingming short holiday was simply more mentally taxing than going to work. His retirement pension arrived monthly, neither high nor low, enough for basic needs but far from affluence. Supposedly, it was time to enjoy a peaceful life. But how to enjoy this "peace" had now become a field of study, perhaps even bordering on metaphysics.

"Old man, don't just coop yourself up in the house all the time!" Mrs. Li shouted from the kitchen, her voice accompanied by the clatter of pots and pans. "Look, people are saying on their phones, the best way to rest during a holiday isn't sleeping, it's getting out, doing something, clearing your head!"

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.

Lao Wang felt like he was about to drown in these cardboard boxes.

Spring in Beiping, the wind was still stiff, slapping against the face like a stepmother's hand. But somehow, the streets exuded a certain bright energy. Take the newly opened "Butter & Bread" on the corner, for instance. Its glass was polished so bright, like newly fired porcelain teeth, gleaming almost blindingly white. Old Li stopped right there, at the shop's entrance.