During the morning rush hour, a person on Subway Line 2 was standing next to someone else. He was holding soy milk in his left hand and holding his mobile phone in his right hand. When the message of Party A's seventeenth revision of requirements popped up on the screen, he was being squeezed by the crowd and his feet were off the ground. His whole body looked like a piece of lunch meat stuffed into a can. Someone elbowed the soy milk cup, and the spilled liquid accurately landed on the collar of his white shirt. It was warm and had the beany smell unique to low-quality soy milk.
