Recently, I’ve felt a dull ache in the center below my collarbone. In the morning, I lay in bed, stretching my neck. After a few cycles, I started to feel nauseous. The whole day passed in a drowsy haze.

While lying in bed, someone knocked on my door. The elderly man downstairs asked for help to check why his stove wouldn’t light. I took off my shoes and entered barefoot. Directly ahead was the living room facing the river, to the left a bedroom with a floor-to-ceiling wardrobe, and to the right a kitchen with double sliding doors. It was a one-bedroom apartment for a single person—the first time I’d seen a south-facing unit in this building. I tried the stove’s igniter; there was no smell of gas. On the cutting board were sliced green peppers, and in a bowl, some hollow vegetable stems. The pot was already washed, ready for cooking. The old man came over with spare batteries, fiddled with a few gas switches, and suddenly the flame came on.

In the afternoon, I watched some IRL livestreams, imagining places I’d never been. In the evening on YouTube, I saw videos about China’s unknown travel destinations, all in the sparsely populated west or deep mountains.

Half-reclining in my chair, I couldn’t find my own desires.

*This article was originally written in Chinese and translated into English by AI. Please excuse any