A Record of Lies in the Mortal World

The biggest lie in the world is telling the poor to accept their lot in life. It took Zhou Yuanshan ten whole years to understand this. He started out as a laborer at the very bottom of the city, carrying loads heavier than himself every day for just enough money to pay rent and eat the cheapest boxed meals. He thought that if he worked hard enough, life would eventually get better. Then one day, he watched his coworker Old Liu fall from the scaffolding. The contractor threw down twenty thousand yuan and disappeared. The hospital said surgery would cost two hundred thousand. Old Liu's wife knelt at the construction site entrance and wept for a day and a night, then finally hauled him back to their hometown on a handcart. Zhou Yuanshan quit and started delivering food. He thought a change of livelihood might help him escape all those miserable troubles. But he found that every industry had its own rules. The delivery platform's algorithm was always testing the riders' limits: late-delivery fines, deductions for bad reviews, higher rates on rainy days. Every order came with a carefully laid trap. He saw a coworker run a red light to save time and get hit and flung away. He also saw customers complain relentlessly because a little soup had spilled. Later, he joined a sales company, learned to wear a suit and tie, smile at customers, and say all the polished things he didn't believe himself. He sold health supplements to the elderly, financial products to laid-off workers, and beauty devices with no real benefits to young women. Every time he closed a deal, he kept a tally in his heart. Five years later, he became a regional manager, overseeing more than two hundred people. But on the night of the celebratory banquet, he received a text message: “You thought you'd escaped, but all you did was find another way to deceive people.” It was from someone he thought had died long ago.