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

The sun baked a layer of transparent heat waves that were visible to the naked eye on the asphalt road surface of the provincial highway.

Xu An wiped the sweat from his chin.

He bent down and picked up a crushed mineral water bottle from the ditch.

I casually stuffed it into the mesh pocket on the side of the canvas bag.

The net bag was already stuffed with seven or eight empty bottles.

The number of viewers in the live stream remained steadily at just over 1,200.

A comment slowly scrolled past.

"Anshen, I just checked your total donation ranking in the back office. You have enough money in your account to buy a Panamera."

"What are you after, picking up trash on a provincial highway in 35-degree heat?"

"Exactly! Wouldn't it be better to withdraw the gift money, take a taxi, and enjoy the air conditioning in the city?"

Xu An smiled as he looked at the screen.

He didn't spout any grand principles.

They just pressed the bottles in the net bag a little more firmly.

"Other people's money is theirs."

"Others give tips just to watch the fun."

"If I took that money and took a taxi this way, things would be completely different."

"I have to measure the road I'm walking on with my own feet."

"Every penny and cent was earned by myself."

"I feel more at ease when I eat."

The chat was silent for two seconds.

"You deserve to be famous. Your values ​​are harder than the fish that RT-Mart has been killing for ten years."

"I suddenly understand why he was able to get through those three months."

"He's not on a budget trip, he's on a pilgrimage."

Xu An stopped looking at his phone.

He looked up at the low-rise buildings that were gradually taking shape in front of him.

It was an old town with a strong sense of history.

At the entrance of the town stands a cement archway with four faded red characters that read "Fengping Old Street".

The walls of the old street are covered with white "demolition" signs.

In addition to the sweltering heat of summer, the air also carried a smell of dust mixed with the musty odor of old bricks and tiles.

This is the place Zhao Nian mentioned in her message that is about to be demolished.

It is also the only way to reach the Mangshi Post Office.

Xu An walked to a scrap metal recycling station at the entrance of town.

The large scales in the station were covered in dust.

The boss was a shirtless, fat man who was leaning back in a bamboo chair, fanning himself.

Xu An took the thirteen bottles out of the net bag.

He then pulled out a small stack of discarded cardboard he had picked up on the road from his canvas bag.

The fat boss glanced at him sideways.

"Bottles cost 15 cents each, and cardboard costs 30 cents a pound."

"The total is three dollars and fifty cents."

Xu An did not bargain.

He took the three crumpled banknotes and a five-cent coin.

He carefully smoothed it out and put it in his pocket.

This is his dinner money for tonight.

He walked out of the scrap yard and into the old street paved with bluestone slabs.

Most of the shops on both sides of the street were already closed.

There was a seal on the door panel.

The few stores that weren't closed were also having clearance sales, with loudspeakers announcing that everything was 50% off for the last three days.

Xu An bought a bottle of chilled mineral water for two yuan at a grocery store.

He gulped down half the bottle in one go.

The burning sensation in my throat finally subsided a bit.

He continued walking forward.

He stopped at an intersection about 200 meters from the center of the old street.

There is a shop with a very narrow storefront at the corner of the intersection.

The shop doesn't have a roller shutter door; it uses old-fashioned spliced ​​wooden door panels.

A wooden sign hangs above the entrance, with black background and gold lettering that reads "Spring Breeze Photo Studio".

What attracted Xu An was not the signboard.

It's a thin wire stretched under the sign.

Old photos are held together by wooden clips on the wire.

The photo swayed gently in the breeze.

It makes a soft, rustling sound like paper rubbing together.

A small blackboard stood by the door, with neat chalk writing.

Seven days until demolition.

Unclaimed photos are being offered for free to find their owners.

Overdue items will be destroyed at the store.

Xu An stood under the barbed wire.

He looked at the photos.

There were young people wearing Dacron shirts from the 1980s.

There was a family of three holding a chubby baby.

There was a young man riding a bicycle and wearing sunglasses.

The color has already turned yellowish.

The edges are roughened by oxidation over time.

The live stream chat exploded with comments.

"My God, so many old photos."

"This represents the youth of so many people, why hasn't anyone come to claim it?"

"The photo studio owner is a ruthless guy; he must have been saving up for decades."

Xu An stepped into the photo studio.

The lighting in the store was a bit dim.

Several glass cabinets were placed against the wall, containing old-fashioned Seagull cameras and Kodak film canisters.

There was a faint smell of developer in the air.

Two fill lights were lit in front of the backdrop at the back of the shop.

An elderly man in his sixties was bent over behind a tripod, fiddling with a camera.

The tripod was an old Hasselblad medium format camera.

The camera is focused on an elderly woman sitting in front of the backdrop.

The old lady was wearing a clean blue and white floral silk blouse.

Her hair was combed neatly and pinned back with a hair clip.

His hands were awkwardly placed on his knees.

"Aunt Zhou, tuck your chin in a little."

"Yes, look at the camera."

"Think about how you felt the day your eldest grandson got into university."

The old man spoke as he reached for the shutter release cable.

The old lady tried to force a stiff but kind smile.

Click.

The flash went off once.

The old man straightened up.

"Alright, Aunt Zhou, you've done a great job taking the photos."

The old lady breathed a sigh of relief and stood up from the stool.

"Old Li, could you make this photo a little brighter?"

"I was thinking of hanging it on the wall so the children wouldn't be scared."

There was a moment of silence in the live stream.

"She was taking a funeral portrait."

"The children aren't scared when it's hanging on the wall," these words brought a pang of sadness to my heart.

Xu An stood at the door without saying a word.

He watched as the old man went behind the counter, wrote out a form, and handed it to the old woman.

The old lady took out a few coins from her handkerchief and handed them over.

"Come pick it up in three days. I've been busy packing up to move the shop these past few days."

The old man put the money into the drawer.

The old lady nodded and walked out of the shop with small steps.

As she brushed past Xu An, she glanced at the old cloth shoes on his feet.

Only then did the old man raise his head and look at Xu An.

Her gaze swept over the frame of his reading glasses, taking in his features.

"Young man, are you taking a photo or picking it up?"

Xu An walked over.

"I don't need to pay to pick up the photos, right?"

The old man paused for a moment, then gave a wry smile.

"It's written on the blackboard: Free to claim."

"This area is going to be demolished, and I can't move these old grievances with me."

"Those who can find their owners will be blessed with good fortune; those who can't will simply be burned as trash."

Xu An pointed to the barbed wire outside the door.

"Are these things unwanted?"

The old man sighed.

Three large cardboard boxes were pulled out from under the glass counter.

The cardboard box was heavy and made a dull thud when it hit the floor.

"What's the big deal about what's hanging outside?"

"The real prize is in these three boxes."

"It's been 41 years since we opened the shop in 1985."

"Some people paid a deposit but didn't come to pick it up, some didn't want it after it was washed because they thought it didn't look good, and some went out to work and never came back."

"There must be more than three thousand in total."

More than three thousand lost faces.

Xu An's heart was beating strongly.

"Uncle, may I take a look?"

The old man waved his hand.

"See? They're all just unwanted thoughts anyway."

Xu An squatted down and opened the first cardboard box.

The box was filled with the smell of stale paper.

Inside were stacks of photographs and negatives wrapped in kraft paper.

The year and name were written in pen on the kraft paper.

Xu An flipped through the pages one by one.

The movements were very gentle.

I was afraid of damaging those brittle old photos.

In 1990, Wang Dana held a full moon celebration.

Liu Hongmei's wedding photo, 1995.

Graduation photo of Class 2, Grade 9, No. 2 Middle School, 1998.

He flipped through the packages slowly, his eyes scanning each one.

The old man took a rag and started wiping the glass counter.

"You young man, you're not from around here, are you?"

"Judging from your accent, you seem to be from the north."

"The photo you're looking for?"

Xu An did not look up.

"I'm looking for traces left by my parents."

The old man paused for a moment while wiping the glass.

I glanced at the green canvas bag on Xu An's back.

"Your bag is quite old; young people don't carry those anymore."

"Did your parents used to live on this street?"

Xu An hummed in agreement.

I opened a kraft paper package that said 2003.

Several landscape photos slid out from inside.

The viewers in the live stream were also searching with him.

"This is like finding a needle in a haystack."

"More than three thousand photos, how long will it take to find them all?"

"This box doesn't contain photos; it contains the historical archives of an entire town."

Xu An is not in a hurry.

He looked through all the paper packages in the first box.

There was no familiar handwriting.

He also couldn't find the abbreviation he was looking for.

He put the items back exactly as they were and then pulled over the second box.

The dust on this box is thicker.

Seeing that he was looking through the items so intently, the old man poured him a glass of water and placed it on the counter.

"Take a sip of water and turn it over slowly."

"The photos from around 2003 are all under that partition with the red lettering."

Xu An thanked him.

Following the old man's guidance, my finger touched a piece of cardboard at the bottom of the box.

Lift the cardboard.

There were several white envelopes without any names on them, pressed down below.

The envelope was covered in yellow stains.

No names were written on it.

It consists of only a simple string of numbers.

GS-01-Film.

Xu An's gaze remained unchanged, but his hands suddenly stopped moving completely.

He stared at the number for a full five seconds.

My breathing slowed down.

GS.

The investigation team's code.

He picked up the envelope.

A fine layer of sweat seeped from my palms.

The envelope was sealed with glue.

Xu An looked up at the old man.

"Uncle, this envelope hasn't been opened."

The old man leaned over and took a look.

He pushed up his reading glasses.

"Oh, this."

"I remember now."

This happened in the summer of 2003.

A look of reminiscence crossed the old man's eyes.

"That year, a group of people carrying green bags just like yours passed through the town."

"Five or six, men and women."

"They said it was a geological team, going to the mountains to conduct exploration."

"The one in charge put several rolls of film that had been photographed here with me."

"They gave me 100 yuan and asked me to develop the negatives and print two copies of the photos."

"He said they would stay in the mountains for half a month, and would come back to pick it up when they passed through town on their way out."

Xu An's throat was dry.

"And then what?"

The old man sighed and shook his head.

"Then that summer, there was a torrential downpour in the mountains, and a landslide occurred."

"That road was closed for two months."

"Those people never came back."

"I figured they might have taken another route, so I sealed these developed photos here."

"It's been sitting there for twenty-three years."