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

Xu An's finger hovered above the screen.

The lingering sound of "on the shelves" still echoed in the cold wind, not yet landing.

He had even come up with a few lines of lyrics.

For example, "Everyone should consume rationally."

For example, "Don't overload the servers."

Another example is "we will compensate you if you receive rotten fruit".

After all, these several thousand kilograms of apples were Teacher Zhao's only hope for the year.

That same weathered electric tricycle made dozens of trips back and forth.

However, reality gave Xu An a resounding slap in the face the very moment he pressed "Open Connection".

Even the red "buy" button didn't linger on his retina for even half a second.

The numbers on the screen flickered wildly as if possessed.

Then it instantly dropped to zero, turning into a gray, cold "Sold Out" status.

Xu An blinked, then rubbed his eyes hard.

I thought I hadn't wiped the sleep from my eyes and was seeing things.

Or perhaps the signal in the Taihang Mountains is poor, causing a bug.

"that……"

Xu An swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly.

"Family members."

"Is the network card stuck?"

"Why is the backend not showing up?"

"I haven't even started promoting myself yet..."

He even subconsciously patted the back cover of the Huawei Master laptop, attempting to recover the data using this primitive "physical repair method".

After a brief pause of a few seconds, the comments in the live stream chat surged in like a tsunami, so fast that even afterimages were barely visible.

[ID Single for Thirty Years]: Lag? Lag my ass! Do you know how many years I've practiced this hand speed?

[I'm so upset I couldn't get the ID]: Three seconds! Just three seconds! I just entered my payment password and it told me there wasn't enough stock?

【ID I am a scalper】: This is outrageous! I opened five accounts and didn't manage to snag a single one! Xu An, did you lock up the inventory?

[ID Hunger Marketing Master]: Confirmed! This streamer is definitely using hunger marketing! Thousands of kilograms of apples gone in three seconds? I don't believe it!

Xu An stared blankly at the screen filled with "I don't believe it" and "It's all a cover-up."

She's been wronged! More wronged than Dou E!

He turned his head and looked at Teacher Zhao, who looked bewildered. The old man couldn't understand the phone screen.

But seeing Xu An's expression, as if he had seen a ghost, my heart skipped a beat.

"An Wazi..."

"What's wrong?"

"Didn't it... sell out?"

"It's okay, if they don't sell, it's fine."

"It's an ugly fruit to begin with, so it's normal that nobody wants it."

Teacher Zhao's hand trembled as she reached into her pocket, trying to touch the pack of cigarettes. The desolation on her face was heartbreaking to see.

Xu An quickly grabbed Teacher Zhao's hand.

"no!"

"Teacher Zhao!"

"It's gone!"

"It's all gone!"

"They're all gone!"

Xu An's voice cracked with excitement, sounding like a rooster being choked.

Teacher Zhao's hand trembled, and the cigarette paper he had just taken out spilled all over the floor.

"What?"

"They...they're all gone?"

"That's several thousand kilograms..."

"Anwa, you wouldn't dare to fool this old man."

Xu An didn't say anything, but directly brought up the order page in the background of his phone.

Although Teacher Zhao couldn't see the words clearly, the long string of constantly changing red numbers and the extremely eye-catching total amount were still clearly visible.

Even through reading glasses, it is breathtaking.

"bite--"

"bite--"

The background message notification sounds blended together, like a musical performance.

Teacher Zhao stared blankly at the small screen.

His lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a single word for a long time.

Suddenly, tears welled up in those cloudy old eyes.

The liquid flowed down his face, which resembled withered tree bark, and into his graying beard.

"This...this..."

"This world..."

"It's gotten better."

The old man turned around, his back to the camera, his shoulders shrugging.

It was the pent-up grievances of many years, and the relief of being released all at once.

In the live stream, the number of comments still clamoring for "rigging" gradually decreased.

Instead, there is a gentle warmth.

[ID Tears Up]: Seeing the old man cry made me feel like my purchase of those boxes of apples was worthwhile.

[ID Tribute]: This isn't about buying an Apple product; it's about paying tribute to the perseverance of that era.

[ID Huixian Culture and Tourism]: @Xu An told Teacher Zhao that the delivery truck would be heading into the mountains in ten minutes. He told him not to worry, and to leave the packing to us.

Xu An looked at this comment and finally felt a huge weight lifted off his shoulders.

really.

The official Lao Liu is still the most reliable.

"that……"

Xu An took a deep breath and calmed himself down.

"Family members."

"Don't complain if you didn't get one."

"It's really gone."

"All of Teacher Zhao's hard work this year is here."

"next year……"

"If Teacher Zhao is still in good health next year, let's make another appointment."

After finishing the sales business, Xu An remembered what Teacher Zhao had said earlier.

And that mysterious private message: shack, old things.

He looked at the low shack built of stones and mud.

In a corner of the orchard, the door was a worn-out wooden board with a faded "福" (good fortune) character pasted on it.

It seemed out of place, yet strangely harmonious.

"Teacher Zhao."

"You just said..."

"May I come in and have a seat?"

Xu An tentatively asked a question.

Teacher Zhao wiped her face, turned around, and her eyes, washed by tears, appeared even clearer.

"Enter."

"They're all sold out, I feel relieved."

"Some things should be shown to the public."

The old man led the way; his back was still a little hunched, but his steps were much lighter.

The big yellow dog wagged its tail and followed behind.

Xu An held up his phone, bent down, and saw that the door to the shack was very low, requiring him to duck to get in.

As soon as I entered, a peculiar smell hit me, but it wasn't musty.

It's not the kind of smell that comes from a lack of ventilation all year round.

It's a blend of apple and the scent of aged paper ink.

Very dry.

It's very quiet.

It felt like an instant travel from the tumultuous year of 2026 back to that passionate era.

The shack was dark, with only a beam of light coming in through the window.

Within that beam of light, countless tiny dust particles danced in the air.

It took Xu An a while to get used to the place before he could see the furnishings in the room clearly.

A wooden table with a broken leg, with several red bricks placed underneath.

A single bed covered only with a straw mat, the quilt folded as neatly as a tofu block.

But what's most awe-inspiring is the wall.

That wall plastered with yellow mud.

Unlike other farmhouses, they didn't have New Year pictures or celebrity posters on their walls.

Instead, they built rows of simple wooden frames.

The shelves were densely packed with books, neatly stacked.

From "Self-Study Series on Mathematics, Physics and Chemistry" to "Fruit Tree Cultivation Techniques".

From "The Red and the Black" to "How the Steel Was Tempered".

Some of the book covers were worn away and carefully wrapped in newspaper; some of the paper was yellowed and brittle, as if it would crumble at the slightest touch.

But under that beam of light, these books seemed to glow.

The hundreds of thousands of viewers in the live stream fell silent instantly.

No one posted any comments; everyone was holding their breath, watching this shocking scene.

This is the legendary saying—"Sages emerge from humble dwellings."

This is what is meant by "This is a humble abode, but my virtue makes it fragrant."

Xu An subconsciously softened his breathing.

He felt that his hands, which had just been excited about sales, now seemed somewhat vulgar.

He walked up to the bookshelf, but didn't dare to touch it. He simply moved the camera closer so that everyone could see the words on the spines of the books.

[ID Old Bookworm]: Good heavens! That's the 1978 edition of "Dream of the Red Chamber"! It's out of print now!

[ID: Peking University Talent]: Every book in this collection was a source of intellectual nourishment for that era. How did Professor Zhao manage to preserve them under such difficult circumstances?

[ID: Solemn Respect]: I thought he was just an old farmer selling apples, but I didn't expect him to be a hidden master.

Xu An turned his head and looked at Teacher Zhao, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, wiping her hands with a dry towel.

"Teacher Zhao..."

"These books..."

"Have you seen them all?"

Teacher Zhao smiled, his face wrinkles revealing a scholarly air.

"I've seen it."

"I've been watching it for fifty years."

"When the apple tree isn't bearing fruit, I read books."

"Once you've finished reading the book, the fruit will be ripe."

This was said in a very plain way.

But the loneliness and perseverance within are so heavy that they make it hard to breathe.

"Oh, right."

"An Wazi."

"Come and take a look at this."

Teacher Zhao bent down and carefully took out a tin box from the drawer of the rickety table.

That was an old box used to hold cookies; the paint had all peeled off, and it was covered in rust.

But in Teacher Zhao's hands, it is even more precious than the tens of thousands of yuan that were just sold.

"Click—"

The lid of the tin box was opened with a dry, cracking sound.

Xu An leaned closer, and the camera followed. Inside the box, there were no gold or silver jewelry, nor any bankbooks or property deeds.

There was only a stack of letters, a thick stack, the envelopes of which had already turned yellow.

Some of them have an eight-cent stamp on them.

Some of them don't even have stamps on them.

Xu An reached out his hand, his movements so gentle it was as if he were afraid of waking something.

He picked up the top letter.

The handwriting on the envelope was messy, but the ink was strong enough to penetrate the paper, and the recipient's address was written in all sorts of ways.

There are "Heilongjiang Production and Construction Corps", "Yunnan Xishuangbanna Farm", and "Jing'an District, Shanghai..."

Without exception, none of these envelopes were stamped.

In other words.

These letters were never sent, or if they were sent, they were returned.

Xu An's fingers touched a corner of the envelope.

There were some slight bulges there, as if something was sandwiched inside.

It might be a photograph, or it might be a dried leaf.

"Teacher Zhao..."

"this……"

Xu An raised his head, his eyes full of confusion.

Teacher Zhao sighed, a sigh that spanned half a century.

"These were left behind by our group of educated youth back then."

"Some left, but they left in such a hurry that they didn't have time to send them."

"Some...didn't make it."

"I stayed in these mountains."

"It has become apple trees covering the entire mountainside."

The old man's voice was choked with emotion as he looked at Xu An as if he were looking at a junior to whom he had placed countless hopes.

"An Wazi."

"You are a college student."

"You've seen the outside world."

"Your phone..."

"It must lead to very far places, right?"

Xu An nodded.

"able."

"It can connect to all of China."

"Even the whole world."

Teacher Zhao's hands were trembling.

He pushed the tin box closer to Xu An's arms.

"That……"

"Can you help me?"

"Help us."

"Give these letters."

"Shall we give it to you?"

Even if the person is no longer here.

Even if the address changes.

"These words have to be said..."

"At least we have a place to stay."

Xu An was holding the tin box.

Shen.

It's really heavy.

It's heavier than those thousands of kilograms of apples.

It was heavier than those two pigs.

This isn't just a letter; it's dozens of burning hearts.

These are dozens of youthful memories sealed away by time.

The live stream chat exploded again.

But this time there were no jokes, no clever remarks, only a screen full of red, tearful emojis.

[ID Walking Through Mountains and Rivers]: Xu An, take it. This is your path.

[Postal Delivery Guy]: Host! Send me the address! As long as the address is still there, I can help you find it!

[ID Missing Persons Team]: This is big news! This is a major public service! We are willing to provide full platform support!

Xu An looked at the iron box in his arms, then at the bare orchard outside the window.

The wind whistled through the treetops, making a whistling sound, as if urging us on, or as if bidding us farewell.

He suddenly remembered the remittance slip his grandfather had given him. Was the blurry address on it also hidden in one of the letters in this tin box?

Xu An took a deep breath.

The sweet scent of apples and the smell of old paper instantly filled his chest, squeezing out most of his social anxiety and timidity.

He raised his head and looked at the camera. His eyes were no longer that "clear stupidity," but rather a kind of... naive determination.

"middle."

"Teacher Zhao."

"This job."

"I accepted it."

Even if it's to the ends of the earth.

"I'll send some to you too."

After saying that, Xu An hugged the iron box, turned around, and walked out of the shack.

The sunlight was so bright that it hurt one's eyes.

He glanced behind him; Teacher Zhao was still standing in the shadows.

But his back seemed a little straighter than before.

Xu An knew that from this moment on, he was no longer just a pig-slaughtering livestreamer.

He was a postman, a postman carrying the old times to knock on the door of a new world...

But to whom should this first letter be sent?

Xu An casually flipped to the back of the first letter.

A line of neat, small handwriting was written on it:

"To—that crybaby who loves candy-heart apples."

Xu An was stunned.

This name...

Why does this sound so familiar?

It seems that the old cat at Aunt Wu's house used to be called "Crybaby"?

wrong.

Xu An suddenly remembered.

When I was a child, I was caught stealing Mr. Zhao's apple and cried so hard that snot was bubbling out of my nose. I think that's what Mr. Zhao called me.

So... this first letter is to myself?

Xu An's hands suddenly trembled like a leaf.

This plot.

Isn't that a bit too exciting?