Secret Hours in a Rental

The city's clamor is like a symphony stretched out by a clumsy conductor: horns blaring at uneven pitches, construction sites pounding away, and crowds roaring in a tumult that weaves itself into an invisible net, leaving you struggling to breathe. My name is Lin Xiaoqing, and the number twenty-six is etched clearly in the fine lines that occasionally show at the corners of my eyes. Three years after graduating from college, I work as a copywriter and planner at an advertising agency in this sweltering coastal city in the south. It sounds glamorous, but in reality, the job means battling caffeine and clients' demands through countless late nights. During my four years at college, I once thought the dormitory's iron bars and the tightly shut