Wall Hanging

In the year of graduation, Chen Mo didn't wait for the job notice, but instead waited for a seven-square-meter wall-mounted room. In this box with no windows and only the roar of the exhaust fan day and night, he lived like a piece of luggage that was casually stuffed into a corner by the city. Power outages during the day, insomnia at night, resumes in ruins, and savings gradually dwindling. In order to survive, he had to take off Kong Yiji's gown and go to the talent market to find a job of dignity. There are no miracles of counterattack here, no nobles descended from heaven, just a group of young people who have lost their way in the torrent of the times. They exist quietly like water stains on the wall, enduring day after day in extreme confinement and numbness. This is a survival record belonging to ordinary contemporary youth. Not showing off misfortune, not sublimating, just watching with cold eyes how a person grits his teeth and survives in the quagmire of life.