Tram drivers drive trams.Under the sun, the tram tracks are like two gleaming curves drilled out of the water, stretching and then shortening; stretching and then shortening, moving forward just like that—smooth, The old elders' long song, endless, endless... The tram driver's eyes are fixed on these two creepy rails, but he is not crazy. If there is no blockade, the tram will never stop.blocked.The bell is ringing. "Dinglinglinglinglinglingling," each word "ling" is a cold little dot, which connects little by little to form a dotted line, cutting off time and space.

The tram stops, but the people on the road start to run. People on the left side of the street run to the right side of the street, and people on the right side run to the left side.The iron gates of the shops were all slammed shut.The ladies yanked the iron bars frantically, shouting, "Let's come in for a while! I have children here, and old people!" But the door was still shut tightly.The people inside the iron gate and the people outside the iron gate looked at each other, fearing each other. People in the tram were pretty calm.They had seats to sit in, and although the facilities were a bit poorer, they were better than what most passengers had at home.Gradually the street became quiet, not absolutely silent, but the voices of people gradually faded away, like the rustling of a reed pillow heard in a dream.This huge city dozed off in the sun, resting its head heavily on people's shoulders, saliva slowly flowing down people's clothes, and the unimaginable huge weight weighed down everyone.Shanghai seems to have never been so quiet—in broad daylight!Taking advantage of the silence, a beggar raised his voice and sang: "Master, Mrs., Mrs. and Miss, have done good deeds to save my poor man? Ah, Mrs. and Mrs..." But he stopped shortly after, being caught by this The familiar silence froze.

There was also a more courageous Shandong beggar who resolutely broke the silence.His voice is round and clear: "Poor, poor! A man with no money!" A long song, sung from one century to the next.The musical rhythm has infected the tram drivers, who are also from Shandong.He sighed a long time, crossed his arms, leaned against the car door, and sang along: "Poor, poor! Alone, I have no money!" In the tram, some passengers got off.Among the rest of the group, there were scattered people who said something.The people who came back from several office rooms near the door continued to talk.One person shook his fan away with a snarl, and concluded: "In short, he has no other problems, the only disadvantage is that he can't be a man." The other snorted and sneered: "Say he can't be a man. He's done a good job with his superiors!"

A middle-aged couple who looked like brother and sister hung their hands on leather rings and stood in the middle of the tram.Suddenly she exclaimed, "Be careful not to get your trousers dirty!" He started, and raised his hand, which contained a packet of smoked fish.He was careful to keep the oily paper pocket two inches away from his suit pants.His wife muttered to herself, "What's the price for dry cleaning now? What's the price for a pair of pants?" Sitting in the corner, Lu Zongzhen, an accountant of Huamao Bank, saw the smoked fish and thought of the spinach buns his wife asked him to buy at a noodle stall near the bank.That's what women are!The steamed stuffed buns bought in the most difficult alley in Twisted Twisted must be cheap and good!She didn't think about him at all—it's outrageous for a person who is neatly dressed in a suit, wearing tortoiseshell glasses and carrying a briefcase, to run all over the street with a steaming steamed bun in the newspaper!But no matter what, if the blockade was prolonged and his dinner was missed, at least the buns would come in handy.He looked at his watch, it was only half past four.Should it be a psychological effect?He was already hungry.He gently opened a corner of the newspaper and opened a sheet inside.Each one is snow-white, emitting a faint smell of sesame oil.A part of the newspaper stuck to the bun, and he carefully tore off the newspaper. The bun was printed with typeface, and the words were all reversed, as if reflected in a mirror. However, he had the patience to lower his head to recognize each one. Come out: "Obituary...application...China stock news...grand debut waiting for teaching..." They are all necessary words. I don't know why they are reproduced on Baozi, but they are a bit joking.Maybe because "eating" is such a serious thing that everything else is a joke by comparison.Lu Zongzhen felt displeased when he looked at it, but he didn't smile, he was an honest man.He saw the articles in the newspaper from the articles on the bun, and read half a page of the old newspaper. If he turned it over to read it, the bun would fall out, so that's all.He read the newspaper here, and everyone in the car followed suit. Those with newspapers read newspapers, and those without newspapers read invoices, regulations, and business cards.Those who don't have any printed materials, just look at the market signs on the street.They can't help filling this terrible emptiness -- or their brains might work.Thought is a painful thing.

There was only an old man sitting across from Lu Zongzhen, rubbing two smooth walnuts in his palms, his small and orderly movements replaced his thoughts.He has a shaved head, reddish-yellow skin, and oily face.Wrinkled, the whole head is a walnut.His brain is like a walnut, sweet and moist, but not very interesting. Sitting on the right of the old man was Wu Cuiyuan, who looked like a young mistress of the church, but was not married yet.She was wearing a white cheongsam cheongsam with a narrow blue border—dark blue and white, a bit like an obituary.She was carrying a small blue and white plaid parasol.Hair is combed in a stereotyped style, lest it arouse public attention.Yet she was in no real danger of being unduly conspicuous.She is not ugly, but her beauty is ambiguous, as if she is afraid of offending someone's beauty, everything on her face is light, loose, and has no outline.Even her own mother couldn't describe whether she had a long face or a round one.

She is a good daughter at home and a good student at school.After graduating from university, Cuiyuan served in her alma mater as an English teaching assistant.Now she plans to use the time of blockade to revise the paper.I opened the first article, and it was written by a boy, loudly criticizing the crimes of the city, full of righteous anger, using ungrammatical, goofy sentences, cursing: "The prostitute with red lips... ...Big world...lower dance halls and bars." Cuiyuan pondered for a while, then took out a red pencil and marked the word "A".Normally, if it is approved, it will be approved, but today she has too much time to think, she can't help but ask herself, why did she give him such a good score?It's fine if you don't ask, but when you ask, she turns red.She suddenly understood: because this student was the only man who dared to say these things to her so unscrupulously.

He regarded her as a well-informed person; he regarded her as a man, a confidant.He thinks highly of her.Cuiyuan always felt that everyone looked down on her in school—from the principal, professors, students, school officials... the students were particularly angry: "Shenda is getting worse and worse every day! Using Chinese to teach English Ordinarily, it shouldn't be, let alone a Chinese who has never been abroad!" Cuiyuan was angered at school and at home.The Wu family is a new model family with a religious background.The family tried their best to encourage their daughter to study hard, climbed up step by step, and climbed to the top—a girl in her twenties was teaching in a university!A new career record for women was broken.However, the parents gradually lost interest in her, and would rather she be a little more sloppy in her books and spare some time to find a rich son-in-law.

She is a good daughter and a good student.Her family is full of good people. She takes a bath every day, reads newspapers, and listens to the radio. She never listens to Shenqu and funny Beijing operas, but only listens to Beethoven and Wagner's symphonies, even if she doesn't understand them.There are more good people in the world than real people... Cuiyuan is not happy.