How did hiring someone to press a pig image during Chinese New Year become a top trend?

In the early morning in Tangshan, the wind carries the lingering smell of coal smoke, a unique stimulant for this industrial city.

Xu An was woken up by his phone vibrating.

That bald-headed beast Er Tu was standing on the bedside table, tilting his head and pecking at his phone screen, muttering in the Tangshan dialect he'd just learned yesterday: "Great! Great! Get off me!"

Xu An groggily picked up his phone. The screen was full of unread messages, the top one being a video sent by his second uncle.

The time displayed is 4 a.m.

Xu An clicked on the video.

The footage is shaky, with the dark Taihang Mountains in the background and only a few beams of strong flashlight shining on the side of the huge welcoming stone at the village entrance.

"Ding! Ding! Ding!"

The crisp sound of chisels echoed through the silent valley, each sound like a blow to the heart.

In the video, the gaunt, mute stonemason "Stone" is shirtless, suspended by a safety rope on a precariously suspended rock face. The hammer in his hand, which he has used for decades, leaves afterimages as he swings it in the bright light.

Granny Hua stood below, holding a lantern in her hand. Although she couldn't see, she held her head high and smiled, her expression just like that of a young girl waiting for the stone to be finished thirty years ago.

The camera zooms in.

On that hard bluestone wall, rows of raised dots have appeared densely.

That's the simplified score of the variation on "The Hawthorn Tree" that blind pianist Li Guohua played in the square last night.

The mute man couldn't hear the music, but with his hands, he etched that melody forever into the bones of the Taihang Mountains.

Uncle's voice came from outside the video, with a heavy nasal tone: "Anzi, Uncle Stone has gone mad. Ever since he watched the live stream, he's been carving, and he won't listen to anyone's advice. He says that blind people can't see the road, so he's carving the score at the village entrance. If a blind person ever finds their way here, they'll know they've arrived home just by touching this stone."

Xu An sat on the not-so-soft bed in the budget hotel, holding his phone, and his eyes suddenly reddened.

One of the old men carved his longing into a stone book and sent it out, while the other carved his reply on the mountain.

This is probably the romance of the older generation—hard as a rock, hot as a charcoal fire.

Xu An sniffed and saved the video to his encrypted album.

"Baldy, we should go."

Xu An put on the military overcoat, stuffed the still-sleepy myna into the cage, and covered it with a black cloth.

Stepping out of the hotel, the Tangshan sun was shining brightly.

Xu An didn't dare go back to the food stall from last night; it's probably become a popular spot for online influencers by now. He randomly picked a roadside stall selling honey-glazed twisted dough sticks, intending to buy a couple to tide him over.

"Hey bro, how about two pounds?" The stall owner, a woman, was flipping the twisted dough sticks with a shovel, and the aroma was irresistible.

"Here... just two will do." Xu An pulled the scarf up a bit, leaving only his eyes visible.

"Two? That's not enough!" The older woman quickly packed them into a bag. "Look at you, so big! You need to eat more! These twisted dough sticks are a specialty of Tangshan, also known as 'honey-stuffed twisted dough sticks,' they're very filling!"

Just as Xu An was scanning the code to pay, Er Tuzi in the cage smelled the sweetness and suddenly howled from under the black cloth.

"More! More! Give me more!"

The older sister paused, her shovel momentarily still, and abruptly raised her head, staring intently at the cage in Xu An's hand.

"Oh my god! That voice sounds so familiar!" The older woman's eyes darted around, and she suddenly slapped her thigh. "Isn't that the bird that shouted 'One more!' in Monument Square yesterday?"

Xu An felt a chill run down his spine, grabbed the twisted dough stick, and turned to run.

"Hey bro! Don't run away! I'll give you two more! They're free!"

The older sister's enthusiastic shouts chased after him, and Xu An ran faster than a rabbit, disappearing into a bus that had just pulled into the station.

"Huff... huff..."

Xu An huddled in the corner of the last row of the bus, his heart pounding like a drum.

too frightening.

For someone with social anxiety, the feeling of being "wanted" by the whole world is like public execution.

There weren't many people on the bus, and the heating was on full blast.

Xu An took the tin box out of his pocket.

Following the route, where should the next letter be sent?

He carefully turned the envelopes over. Some were badly worn, and others had oil stains or mud on them.

Suddenly, his finger stopped on a brown paper envelope.

The letter is relatively well-preserved. There is no stamp on the envelope, only an address written with a brush, the handwriting is strong and powerful, and it has a kind of chivalrous spirit.

[No. 402, Street Vendor Area, Panjiayuan Antique Market, Chaoyang District, Beijing]

[Recipient: Wang Dachui (Hammer)]

[Sender: Xujiacun · Lao Nian'er]

Xu An's hand trembled, and he almost dropped the box on the ground.

North... Beijing?

Beijing, a city with over 20 million people, where the subway is packed like sardines during rush hour and you could hit a mid-level official with a brick you just threw?

Xu An's mind instantly conjured up images of the massive crowds at Tiananmen Square and the bustling scenes of Panjiayuan, filled with people crammed together and shouts of vendors.

"I'm not going... I'd rather die than go..."

Xu An instinctively wanted to stuff the letter back.

As a seasoned socially anxious individual, his life motto is: stay home if you can avoid going out, go to the county town if you can go to the provincial capital, and go to the provincial capital if you can go to Beijing.

The crowds there were not only oppressive to him, but also like nuclear radiation.

but……

Xu An's gaze fell on the name "Old Man".

Uncle Lao Nian'er was the most honest and simple carpenter in the village, who never raised his voice in his entire life. He passed away a few years ago, peacefully, falling asleep on the armchair he had made himself.

These are Uncle Lao Nian'er's belongings.

Xu An sighed, buried her head in her scarf, and let out a desperate wail.

"Baldy, I want to go home and feed the pigs."

Inside the cage, Baldy was pecking at the honey-glazed twisted dough stick, mumbling a reply: "Coward! Coward! Attack!"

The live stream had been running for a while. Although Xu An had his phone on his lap and the camera pointed at the car roof, everyone could still hear him.

[ID: Xujiacun Accountant]: Hahaha! Anzi, are you trembling with fear now that you see the next stop is Beijing?

[ID: Capital Native]: Welcome, Anzi, to Beijing! Panjiayuan? That place is great, lots of shady characters... oops, I mean, it's a place where hidden talents abound!

[ID Old Man's Grandson]: Bro... that letter was left by my grandpa? How come I didn't know?

Xu An felt even more panicked as he looked at the comments.

Just then, a young man sitting in front of him suddenly turned up the volume on his phone.

A familiar voice came from the phone: "That old man... he didn't forget... he actually carved that piece of music for me!"

Xu An's whole body stiffened.

That's a video of blind musician Li Guohua crying in the square last night.

The young man in the front row was wearing work clothes stained with white dust; he looked like a decorator or a plasterer. He was eating a pancake while watching a video, his shoulders twitching.

Xu An held his breath, afraid that he would make the slightest sound.

This is practically the highest level of social media frenzy – sitting behind the audience and watching them watch your live stream.

The young man watched for a while, then suddenly wiped his eyes, sniffed, and muttered to himself, "Damn, this is so heartbreaking... I miss my grandpa."

He picked up his phone and sent a voice message to the screen, his voice choked with emotion, and it was spoken in authentic Tangshan dialect.

"Honey, make two dishes for dinner. I'm not working overtime; I'm going home to see Grandpa. You should also watch this video; it's called something like 'Xu An, the one who gets the whole internet to help slaughter pigs.' This streamer... is so righteous."

Xu An huddled in the corner, listening to the two words: "benevolence and righteousness".

He suddenly felt that the old military overcoat he was wearing seemed to have become warmer.

He's neither a great hero nor a big internet celebrity.

He was just a messenger.

Let's sew those feelings that have been washed away by time back together, one by one, like sewing on buttons.

"Young man, going to the train station?"

The ticket seller next to me walked over, holding a ticket holder in her hand.

Xu An quickly looked down, took out his phone to scan the QR code: "Yes, to the train station."

"Where are you going? Tickets to leave the city are hard to get right now."

Xu An hesitated for three seconds.

He glanced at the construction worker in front of him who had decided to go home to see his grandfather after watching the video, and then touched the letter in his pocket that was addressed to "Wang Dachui".

He took a deep breath, as if he were making a decision against his ancestors.

"Go to...Beijing."

After saying those two words, Xu An felt as if all the strength had been drained from his body.

The ticket seller tore off a ticket and handed it to him: "Okay, Beijing is close. Remember to wrap your coat tighter when you get there, the wind is stronger there than here."

The car swayed and bumped as it drove into the drop-off area of ​​Tangshan Station.

Xu An got off the car carrying the birdcage.

Looking at the huge three characters "Tangshan Station" in front of him, he glanced back at the city behind him.

Here you can find glutinous rice cakes, chess-piece-shaped sesame cakes, a mute man who carves musical scores on the mountain, and a tattooed man who treats people to food at a roadside stall.

This city is tough, but it has a soft heart.

"Let's go, Baldy."

Xu An tightened his grip on the canvas bag in his arms and strode toward the entrance.

Let's go to Beijing then.

At worst, when we get to Panjiayuan, I'll just put on a mask and seal Er Tuzi's mouth shut.

As long as I don't speak, no one will know that I am the "most cowardly person on the internet".

However, what Xu An didn't know was...

Just as he boarded the Fuxing bullet train bound for Beijing.

In the stall area of ​​Panjiayuan Antique Market in Beijing, a bald, chubby man wearing a traditional Chinese jacket and holding two walnuts in his hands is staring intently at the live stream replay on his phone, his eyes wide open.

"Isn't this one of those earthen-skinned envelopes from Old Nian's house?"

The walnut in the fat man's hand stopped with a "click".

He suddenly stood up and shouted at the stall owners around him.

"Open your eyes wide, everyone!"

"A young man from Henan, wearing a military overcoat and carrying a birdcage, is coming!"

"That's the descendant of 'Ghost Hand,' a master craftsman who's been missing for thirty years in our antique collecting circle! Put away all those fakes, don't embarrass Panjiayuan!"

The entire street vendor area instantly descended into chaos.

Xu An was still sitting on the high-speed train, staring blankly at the scenery rushing past the window, completely unaware that before he even arrived in Beijing, a "reception net" targeting him had already been quietly laid out.

Moreover, this time they are not facing some kind of honest old soldier or sentimental musician.

They were a group of seasoned veterans who had made their living through the trials and tribulations of the underworld, relying on their keen eyesight and sharp tongues.

Er Tu Zi took a nap in his cage, then suddenly woke up and shouted a new word he had learned from TV out the window.

"A bargain! A bargain! We're going to get rich!"

Xu An's face darkened, and he slapped the cage.

"Pick up my ass! Pretend you're mute when you get to Beijing! Otherwise, I'll stew you and make you into braised pork!"

The train roared across the North China Plain, speeding towards that ancient and majestic city.

As Xu An watched the skyscrapers getting closer and closer, the sweat in his palms soaked through the high-speed rail ticket.