Going South Without Returning

In July 2006, I dragged my suitcase out of Shenzhen Railway Station. With eighteen hundred dollars in his pocket, and all the innocence of a twenty-two-year-old. I thought the city would embrace me. Ten years later, a man named Zhang Yang died in the ward of Baoan People's Hospital. He was my best brother. Before he died, he held my hand and said, "Weekend, do you hate me?" I said no. He smiled and said you were lying. Three young people who climbed out of the Handshake Building in the urban village, one made medical equipment, one got into real estate, and the other jumped into the Internet. We all thought we could win. But none of us won. It wasn't until Zhang Yang's ashes were put into the box that I discovered - this city has not forgotten anyone, it was us who chose to be forgotten...