Tick… tick… tick… tick…
By now, dusk had fallen, and the moon had begun its slow climb into the night sky.
Hao sat at his desk, eyes fixed on the office computer screen. The clock read exactly 8:00 p.m.
Having just wrapped up the day's tasks, he reached for his water cup and walked toward the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside, streetlights flickered to life one by one, bathing the quiet streets in a pale, artificial glow.
His mind drifted—perhaps to the future, perhaps to work, perhaps to family. He wasn't sure himself.
After about five minutes, Hao, still carrying the weight of fatigue on his shoulders, sank back into his office chair.
The moment he sat down, his smartwatch buzzed—once, then again. A quick glance told him it was an incoming call. The screen read: Boss.
Suppressing a sigh, Hao picked up the phone."Yeah? What is it?"
The voice on the other end was brisk."Hao, I'll need all the shipment data ready for tomorrow. We're discussing it in the meeting."
"Understood, boss."
Hao checked the time again—8:30 p.m. He hesitated, then decided he might as well finish the task tonight.
An hour later, the shipment statistics and projected order quantities were neatly compiled. He shut down the computer, switched off the lights, and stepped out of the building.
Outside, he lit a cigarette, taking a slow, deep drag before exhaling into the cool night air.
Staring at the rising smoke, he muttered to himself, "Is this really the life I wanted?"
If I had the chance to start over, would my life still be this ordinary?And if I did start over… could I really choose a different path?
Hao finished his cigarette, flicking the butt into the gutter.
He walked toward his car, got in, and turned on the music.Without lingering, he drove quickly back to his apartment.
In the parking lot, he killed the engine and sat for a moment, his face blank—no joy, no sorrow, no thought of "tomorrow."
Moving like an empty shell, he dragged his weary body upstairs.
The moment he opened the door, his cat trotted over to greet him.
He scooped the cat into his arms, closed the door behind him, and sank into the couch.
His eyes were vacant, as if he were nothing more than a programmed machine.
Every day, the same motions.The same routine, over and over again.
Too tired.
Lying back on the sofa, his eyes slowly drifted shut.