[The short story has been completed.]
My name is Xu Xilin, I am 18 years old. On the afternoon of September 5, 2046, I was sent to a mental hospital by my parents.
I stayed here for almost half a year. The thick iron door cut off countless red threads leading to the outside.
This is not Yue Lao's red thread. People from far away, do you know that the red is dyed with blood? Do you know that the slightly trembling thread comes from the other end of the thread?
Idea: Maybe in this absurd world, I should imagine that people are all happy.