A Drifting Life and an Unexpected Encounter

When I woke in the morning, my mind felt heavy, and my body was so limp I could barely move. If only I could have indulged in another hour of sleep, but alas, I had a part-time job to get to today.

Drowsily, I fumbled for my phone beside the pillow, intending to check the time, yet my eyes refused to open.

[8:17]

After a while, my body gradually roused itself. Work was scheduled to begin at nine, so it was nearly time to prepare.

After washing up, I headed to the living room to grab some bread and milk for breakfast. I then sat at the table, slowly eating while watching the minutes tick by.

Ordinarily, I would contemplate life during my meals, relishing the rare tranquility and ease of my almost solitary existence.

However, the uncouth laughter emanating from the living room sofa shattered my peaceful moment.

My sister, Yi Shi, lay sprawled haphazardly on the sofa, covered by a blanket. The television blared an incomprehensible historical idol drama. I couldn’t discern what the characters were acting out or what they were saying, yet she was utterly delighted, laughing like some squawking bird.

“Have you eaten?” I asked her.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, I have.”

Her attention remained glued to the drama, her reply a mere afterthought. My own focus wasn’t on her either, but on the excessively loud television in the living room. I knew that if I voiced a complaint, I would surely be met with a glare, so I decided against it.

As I ate breakfast at the dining table, a nagging feeling that I had forgotten something persisted. Whenever I slept poorly, my mind would be filled with dreamlike visions and memories, making it difficult to recall promises made or tasks I had planned. Everything felt uncertain.

Was my memory simply poor, or had I never truly cared enough about certain things or people to commit them to heart?

I opened my phone to check my notes, hoping I might have jotted something down, only to find the app empty. I had forgotten I never actually wrote notes.

Since my phone was already on, I started scrolling through videos. The app was filled with dozens of seconds of uninspired, contentless clips, utterly boring.

Fortunately, I was a boring person myself, constantly wasting my worthless time and squandering an unremarkable life.

Suddenly, my gaze fell upon my sister. She attended the province’s top university, a source of pride for our parents, a bragging point for relatives, and an example for younger siblings to emulate.

Yet, in truth, she had no real life goals. After striving to enter a prestigious university, she seemed unsure what to strive for next. Dreams, as far as I knew, had never been a part of her life, nor had she ever yearned for great success.

The notion of changing her life through effort had long vanished from her mind.

Unable to find answers to what we should do or become, we tried to invent our own questions and solutions. But when faced with the world, we couldn’t voice a single question, and thus, no answers emerged.

So this was how it was. We had no dreams, no expectations for ourselves, and consequently, no anxiety or urgency. We simply drifted along, day after day.

Was this right? Was this truly good? I had never asked my sister, and she had never asked me. We didn’t expect an answer to this question.

This was fine. To live a muddled life, bringing nothing, taking nothing away. The Earth wouldn’t spin an extra rotation for your birth, nor one less for your departure. Your presence or absence made no difference.

Therefore, there was no harm in not working so hard.

“Sister Yi Shi,” I called out, “I just checked WeChat. Mom said you’re coming back with her for the Dragon Boat Festival.”

“Ah, Dragon Boat Festival, yes.”

“Isn’t that next week?”

Her legs were propped over the sofa’s backrest; it was impossible to tell what position she was lying in. The hem of her lightweight vest had nearly slipped to her chest, held up only by her ample bosom. She seemed utterly unconcerned by this, and equally so by my question.

“What’s wrong? Can’t I come back if it’s not a holiday?” she retorted, clearly annoyed by my questions.

After a moment of shared silence, she spoke again. “Dad forced me to get my driver’s license. I figured, since I have it, why not use it? So I just drove home to mess around.”

“Dad bought you a car?”

“I’m driving a friend’s.”

After all, my sister’s university was within the province, not far from this city, yet still a three-hour drive. Our parents had taken me to visit her at her university a few times before, and each time, Father would fret over the round-trip fuel costs.

My meal finished, and our conversation dried up. It was time for me to catch the bus for work.

“Leaving?” my sister asked, watching me clear my plate.

“Yes.”

The moment she spoke, I instinctively thought she might offer to drive me, just as Father would often give me a ride whenever he had time, no matter where I was headed.

But she didn’t. After a casual “Oh,” there was nothing more.

A faint sense of disappointment settled in my heart. My sister and I did share memories; I recalled us laughing together in unison, though the details were hazy, I knew those moments existed.

Yet now, the distance between us had somehow grown, becoming so estranged, leaving a bitter taste.

Leaving the comfort of my home, I walked along familiar streets, eventually arriving at my unfamiliar workplace.

The repair shop had numerous sections and job types, each with its own purpose, but none of it concerned me. I had no need to pay attention.

Some workers at the factory were skilled technicians, while others were purely manual laborers. I fell into the latter category.

Though I had only been there a few days, the older workers were remarkably kind. They would proactively take on tasks for me and even bring me food.

I knew they were the most humble and kind-hearted people in the world, and also the most vulnerable.

I understood that each of their families carried its own burdens: children needing to attend university, children needing to marry, parents needing medicine, car and house loans to repay. Every day, after I left, they would work late into the night.

Some employees, with five or six years of experience, earned only four or five yuan more per hour than I did. They toiled diligently every day, often working late into the night, yet this was all the reward they received.

Was this the culmination of life? Was this the outcome of their efforts? Was this… meaning?

I felt a suffocating sensation, my lungs sinking. I knew I shouldn’t delve deeper, shouldn’t overthink.

Yet, existence itself questioned me. The people before me had grown accustomed to this unbearable and deeply unequal life, and I, too, would eventually join their ranks, numbing myself to endure the rest of my days.

“Little brother,” an older woman sitting beside me struck up a conversation, “how many siblings do you have?”

“I have an older sister.”

“Oh, I see. I have two sons, twins,” the auntie said, her head still bent over her work. “They used to have a great relationship, always sticking together. The older one was polite and ambitious, the younger one quiet but very clever. But after they started high school, everything changed. They barely talk to me at home, and the brothers don’t communicate much with each other either. Uh… so I just wanted to ask you…”

‘Adolescent temperament shifts and sibling discord, then. Unfortunately, Auntie, my relationship with my own family isn’t great either, and I don’t know how to connect with people at school. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.’

“What games do you kids play these days?”

This question caught me completely off guard.

“Games?” I mused. “Apex, Valorant, things like that… Why do you ask?”

“Well, my kids don’t talk to me much lately, but they chat so happily with their friends in games. So I thought, maybe if I play with them, we could get closer.”

‘There must be deeper reasons why children can’t open up to their parents—a rebellion they themselves might not even be aware of. As children, we are inherently suppressed and taught by our parents, who in turn naturally bear the duty to guide us. An equal relationship between the two is simply impossible.’

“Oh, I keep hearing my older son talk about ‘eating chicken’ and ‘pesticides’ – seems a lot of adults play those too. And my younger son likes to play something ‘god,’ and something ‘Ark,’ I think, which sounds like something young people play. Can you tell me what these games are and how to play them?”

Yet, there were also parents in this world who were willing to humble themselves, trying to step into their children’s world.

“Your older son plays a game called Honor of Kings and another called PUBG Mobile. Both are multiplayer competitive games, and the main gameplay involves…”

Before I could explain further, a manager came over and angrily reprimanded us for chatting. The auntie and I had no choice but to shut up and focus on our work.

I looked back at the managers, pointing fingers at the employees. Even those injured on the job received glares from the management, as if people were nothing more than useless tools to them.

The atmosphere suddenly turned oppressive. No matter where I worked, this scene always repeated itself in various forms, like an unwearying script performed by countless directors and actors over a hundred million times.

****

I continued working until six in the evening. The management staff kept wandering through the various sections, as if they had nothing better to do, and I found no opportunity to speak with the auntie again.

Although my shift was over, the auntie had ordered takeout and continued to work overtime.

While I regretted not being able to help her, I hoped that with her determination, she would be fine even without my assistance. I could only wish her well.

The moment I left the repair shop, a car pulled up in front of me at the entrance and honked twice.

It seemed I was blocking its way, so I wisely stepped aside, moving onto the sidewalk.

However, the car followed, continuing to honk at me. I hadn’t learned to drive, so I had no idea what traffic rule I might be breaking, and could only stare at it in confusion.

Finally, the car owner opened the door, clearly intending to get out and confront me. Even if I had done something wrong, I hoped they wouldn’t resort to violence, or it would just create more trouble.

“I’ve already rolled down the window, can’t you even look?”

The familiar voice, combined with the familiar figure, was jarringly contrasted by her styled perm and fashionable clothes, making her momentarily unrecognizable to me.

“Ah, Sister Yi Shi,”

I didn’t ask how she knew where I worked. Our school required us to report any part-time jobs to our homeroom teacher, who would then inform our parents. So, I wasn’t surprised that my sister knew my workplace. What truly surprised me was that she would be waiting for me here.

“Haven’t you gone back to school yet?”

“University is much freer than your school; we don’t have classes every day,” she said. “Get in quickly. I’ll take you to dinner.”

My sister had no friends in this city. She hadn’t studied here, nor did she live here much.

Her elaborate dressing and makeup weren’t for going out, and our parents’ return schedule was unpredictable; she hadn’t arranged to be back this week with them.

Was she truly just trying out her newly acquired driver’s license, putting in all this effort merely for that?

I wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was true; she was indeed that spontaneous and free-spirited. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she had come back specifically for someone.

But for whom, then? It wasn’t to see friends, nor to visit our parents.

…I must be truly foolish. The answer was so obvious, yet I dared not confirm it. But something within me was swelling, gradually filling my body. Thoughts and memories surged into my mind.

“I forgot something,” I said. “Wait for me.”

Without waiting for her consent, I abruptly turned and ran back into the factory. The true meaning of life, the significance of existence—some things were too complex for my intellect to grasp. So, let nature take its course. Let everything unfold naturally. If my heart harbored any desire, then I would fulfill it. I would be a fool.

“Auntie,” I said, returning to my previous workstation, “here’s my WeChat. I’ll teach you how to play those games later tonight.”