Astrology Hall with Flesh and Blood

Chapter 76

"Keep your voice down! How many times have I told you!" A green note mysteriously appeared on the pillow, almost at the same time the bed creaked. "It's not just you who's being disturbed, it's all of us!"

"Okay, okay! How annoying!" Chao Yin muttered to herself. She'd definitely be more careful next time! She tiptoed to the bathroom, intending to relieve herself of the urine she'd accumulated the night before. But remembering the advice from the mysterious note, she immediately became more cautious, carefully and slowly urinating. Thankfully, the sound was extremely quiet. Just as she was feeling smug, she pressed the flush button.

Splash!

Oh no! I didn't expect the flushing sound to be so loud! Chao Yin's face turned deathly pale. She stood helplessly by the toilet, completely at a loss. The water in the toilet finally receded, but this ordinary moment felt like half a century to her ears. She stared blankly at the swirling, clear water, and something slowly floated to the surface.

A note! She felt a sudden tightness in her skin.

The writing on the yellow notepad was somewhat blurred by water, but it was still not difficult to make out.

"The second-to-last warning." Its wording was equally harsh, yet somewhat enigmatic: "We don't want 'red'."

Red? What does that mean? She stared at the yellow note for a long time, then suddenly went back inside and arranged all the notes she had received from last night to today. The first one was purple, the second blue, the third… she remembered it being cyan, but she couldn't find it… That's right! She almost slapped her forehead, but thankfully she pulled her hand back before making a sound. The cyan one was still in the neighbor's hole! The neighbor hadn't replied yet! So, next up was today's note: green, yellow, two… a total of five notes… the second to last warning…

"Ah!" she cried out in surprise, completely losing her composure. Red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and violet! Seven colors, each escalating the warning in turn! Counting backwards, yellow is the third to last, yet it's the second to last warning... So, is orange the last warning?

So, what does red represent? The note says they don't want "red"... Is red a formal measure following a warning?

She suddenly felt a tingling sensation on her scalp, as if something was rubbing against the back of her head, making her feel numb and tingly. She reached out and touched it—

The slippery, sticky, and heavy liquid made her feel terribly uncomfortable. All the hair on her head was stuck together by the liquid, along with a piece of paper. It took her a lot of effort to pull the paper off her hair—but she almost fainted from fright.

A notepad of the same size, but its original color was almost unrecognizable. Blood, thick, fresh blood, stained the paper, her hair, and her hands. A thousand times more gruesome than the blood were the words on the notepad: just five simple characters:

"The final warning."

That will be "red". That will be eternal tranquility.

Now, Chaoyin has fully adapted to life in Jing Mansion. Whether in movement or communication, she maintains a cat-like sensitivity, and chatting with her neighbors is no problem at all; she can simply pass notes through a hole in the wall. Computers, cell phones, televisions—anything that makes noise and disturbs everyone's rest—has been thrown away by her. Quiet is the only theme of her existence here.

However, a small problem has arisen. A new resident has moved in, and she's been playing games and chatting online all day, making everyone restless. Chaoyin hasn't been getting enough sleep, and even her long-lost dark circles have reappeared. Several people have already sent her well-intentioned reminders, but the new resident has ignored them—no, it should be said that she has poor manners and doesn't care about others' feelings at all. Chaoyin smiled smugly. Although she herself received an orange alert back then, thanks to her quick thinking, she didn't make a single mistake afterward, effectively keeping the red alert at bay. It seems that to restore Jing Mansion to its previous state, the new resident must be "silenced."

Just like the tide of sound back then. She touched her lips; the strong cotton thread had long since sewn her upper and lower lips together, and over the years, it had become one with her lip flesh. Clutching a red notepad, a relaxed and cheerful smile on her face, she walked silently across the floor of the Jing Mansion. She firmly believed that between "silencing" and "ending one's life," every intelligent person knew which to choose.

Faced with a wall of coercive oppression, most people can only remain silent.

Short Story Collection: A Must-Have Ticket for Horror Night Stories

"I'll buy a ticket that guarantees I can get on the train."

He handed over several hundred-yuan bills that he had been clutching in his palm. They were sticky and hard, soaked in thick sweat and then dried by the heat of his hand. The figure hidden behind the tinted glass remained unmoved, his outstretched hand stubbornly suspended in mid-air, its white surface like jade, resembling a lotus flower blooming in the night.

A flower of hope.

So he searched all fourteen pockets of his body, big and small, and only managed to pull out a wad of filthy banknotes and a stack of crisp coins, which together amounted to less than fifty yuan. He placed the change in the palm of that hand with a sense of awe, hoping it would be satisfied, but all he got in return was silence.

Suddenly, it felt as if all the bones in his body had collapsed. He knew in his heart that a mere 250 yuan handling fee wouldn't be enough to sway the ticket scalper in front of him. He untied the plastic rope that served as a security lock on his travel bag, looked left and right to make sure no one had seen him, then squatted down, using his body as a shield to block his hand movements. From somewhere deep inside the travel bag, he pulled out two banknotes. In this way, he gave away several times the usual ticket price of his hard-earned money to obtain this invaluable train ticket, a train travel permit connecting him to his family back home, a happy pass to a family reunion.

He had meticulously prepared for this for a month, all to buy a train ticket home before Lunar New Year's Eve. Past painful lessons had taught him a lesson, so he got up at six every morning to call and book tickets, and went to the ticket office to queue as soon as he finished work in the evening. Even his precious lunch break, a time as rare as an oasis in the desert, was sacrificed; he would rush to ticket agencies instead. However, this year, tickets were incredibly hard to come by, the situation even more dire than in previous years. He finally got through on the phone, only to find no tickets available; he visited numerous ticket agencies, only to find the same thing; and at the ticket office, the clerks said the same thing every day: "Tickets haven't officially gone on sale yet! What's the rush? We'll talk about it tomorrow!" After more than twenty days of running around, his legs were aching, his back was thin, but he hadn't even managed to get a single ticket. When he finally received the reply that "tickets can be sold," a bucket of ice water was poured over his head. "They're all sold out!" the ticket seller exclaimed impatiently, puffing out his cheeks. "Where were you all this time?"

“But I was here just yesterday,” he said bitterly. “You said you were only selling tickets today!”

The ticket seller snorted, seemingly mocking his ignorance. After that snort, she clearly ignored him and, without even looking up, called out, "Next!"

A plump woman, round all over, immediately approached and, with a gentle arch of her fleshy waist, pushed him out of the railing. It just so happened that she was going to the same place as him. She quietly told the ticket seller a string of numbers, and immediately a fresh ticket, still smelling of ink, was handed out of the window.

His blood rushed to his head with a "buzz," and his face flushed crimson. He staggered forward, shouting, "Tickets available!" pointing at the fat woman, then slamming his finger into the glass of the ticket window. "Why sell to her but not to me? I was here first!"

He was so excited he was almost out of control, his eyes fixed on the train ticket clutched in the woman's hand, practically spitting fire. A ticket! A ticket home! A ticket so hard to get! The damned ticket that had tormented him for a month, making him lose his appetite, sleep, and focus, making life unbearable! Why couldn't he get it despite his exhaustion, while some people got it so easily through connections? It's unfair! He roared.

As Lunar New Year's Eve drew ever closer, he was still frantically trying to secure a ticket. Headlines like "Spring Festival Travel Rush, Spring Festival Travel Rush Again" were ubiquitous in the news and newspapers, and he felt the immense pressure of this situation firsthand. He had been scammed out of service fees several times; he had bought counterfeit tickets at inflated prices; he had even tried to squeeze onto a train during the chaos, hoping to get home by "boarding first and buying a ticket later," only to find the train carriages completely blocked by throngs of people. Many people with valid tickets couldn't even reach the doors, let alone board—he had never succeeded. He couldn't even get a step closer to his hometown. He began to resent the ubiquitous crowds around him. He felt that the sheer number of people was the root cause of the country's traffic congestion and the immense pressure of life. Every time he saw the Spring Festival travel rush on television—a vast, dark sea of people—he felt a mixture of hatred and envy towards those captured on camera, those lucky enough to get tickets and board successfully. Unfortunately, even scalpers seemed to disdain patronizing someone as poor as him. "I just can't get a ticket no matter what. Maybe I shouldn't go home for the New Year this year?" He tentatively called home, only to be scolded half to death by his conservative father. "You unfilial son, if you don't come home, your mother and I will take the train to your place!" His father, with the air of a railway bureau chief, had no idea what "tickets are hard to come by" meant.

Today was the deadline to go home for the Chinese New Year, and he was determined to get on the train no matter what, even if it meant racking his brains, as long as he could free up even the smallest space! As he wandered through the train station at night like a ghost, carrying his big bags, he accidentally discovered a ticket agency that was open for business.

"You're definitely getting on the bus." That's the promise it made.

Finally, he managed to buy a train ticket that would definitely take him home. Although he could already foresee the arduous journey ahead—crowded, stuffy, poorly ventilated, with people crammed into the carriages like sardines, forced to maintain the same posture from start to finish—what did the annual Spring Festival travel rush matter as long as he could return to his warm home, reunite with his family whom he hadn't seen for a year, and celebrate the Spring Festival together? Listen, the train whistle sounded, and with a rumble, the train pulled into the station. A faint, long-lost smile finally appeared on his face—a smile that had vanished since he began his ticket-buying journey.

The carriage was packed full of people—all sorts of people, all shapes and sizes—and everyone was laughing, genuinely laughing from the bottom of their hearts. Broad shoulders were squeezed narrow, tall people were squeezed short, hard bones were squeezed soft, and prominent chests were squeezed flat. Protruding noses and ears were crushed into flat surfaces, while long, slender limbs simply melted into the torso, becoming one with it. Heads were pressed against necks, feet against legs; everyone was squeezed into a cube-shaped container by the immense pressure from all sides, like neatly stacked square cakes, filling every corner of the carriage. Looking at it, it was like a small container truck, making full use of every inch of space.

No, there was still room. The roof of the carriage arched upwards, enough to squeeze at least three more people in. He was definitely going to board. He gripped his ticket, a captivating smile spreading across his face. The moment he stepped onto the train door, his body began to contort. It stretched longer and thinner, like a pancake spreading out. His hands gripped the door, his feet climbed over the heads of one square human-shaped brick after another, until he reached the door at the far end of the carriage. His pancake-like body rested gently on the bricks, fitting perfectly with them. The lingering smile remained on his mouth, stretched several meters wide but only millimeters thick:

Mom and Dad, this time, your son will definitely come home!

Short Story Collection: Long Live the Bank of the Absurd Nation

"If you can think of it, you can buy it."

Gazing at the notes posted on the walls inside the Universal Bank, Li Hua's two peach-pink lips parted slightly, two piercing beams of light shooting from behind her sunglasses. Here, money truly is omnipotent. As long as she presented her VIP gold card, even the previously arrogant teller now wore a fawning, professional smile, offering the most standard and attentive service to the stylishly dressed beauty before her.

What do you need? To deposit or withdraw?

Lihua didn't even bother to look at him, focusing only on chewing her bubble gum. After a while, when the pink bubble she blew popped with a "pop," she lazily gave a reply.

It was such a simple word, yet it took a whole lot of time to write "取".

She tossed out a key; the specially made 18K white gold key slid across the marble tabletop with a crisp sound. The cashier waited respectfully until the key stopped sliding before carefully picking it up with her gloved hands, her face solemn.

"Please enter the password." Even the password box was made of platinum, touted by the bank as "robust and reliable, fully considering the confidentiality and security of its customers, truly a humane choice for the 22nd century," but in reality, it was just a perverse pleasure used by a certain class to flaunt their wealth. Li Hua extended her slender, delicate fingers, each one exquisitely crafted, enough to arouse the desire of any man. She slowly and methodically entered the password; that "thing," after a twenty-year absence, had finally returned to her embrace.

She carefully picked up the "thing," handling it with the same care as if it were her own child. The cashier called out behind her in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Thank you for coming, welcome back next time!" She merely snorted coldly. Twenty years had passed. From the moment she was born, her far-sighted parents had deposited that "thing" in a universal bank on her behalf, repeatedly warning her in the years that she should not easily withdraw it. And so, twenty long years had passed. These kinds of deposited items not only didn't accrue interest, but depositors also paid exorbitant custody fees—including a platinum key and the smiling faces of bank staff—a considerable expense. "Expensive, but worth it!" her mother always said resolutely. "Even if we have to tighten our belts, that 'thing' must be kept safe! Back then, if we had that 'thing'..."

Then she would inevitably launch into a torrent of gossip, some true, some false. Lihua always dismissed it, partly because of poverty, and partly because of her mother's wrinkled face. She must have been beautiful in her youth, for everyone said Lihua resembled her mother, and Lihua was indeed a renowned beauty. Her mother hadn't received the treatment a beautiful woman deserved because of that 'thing,' and therefore, the same tragedy couldn't be repeated in Lihua's life…

Lihua pushed open the glass door, exposing herself to the sweltering summer air. A Mercedes was waiting for her outside. The driver offered to help her with her 'things,' but she gently pushed him away. "I can do it myself, thank you," she said with a sweet smile, but inwardly she scoffed. Something more precious than diamonds—she wouldn't let him get his hands on it so easily!

She plunged into the cool air of the car, leaving the sweltering heat far behind. Just as the driver was about to start the car, a large, rough, dark hand covered the car window. The shape of that hand was so familiar that it made her heart pound.

"Lihua!" the man outside the car called out her name loudly, "Lihua, come out! I have something to say to you!"

The driver peeked at her expression through the rearview mirror, but all he saw was indifference. Lihua seemed to intentionally cover half her face, offering neither answer nor any response. The man pounded on the car window even more fiercely, the force causing the driver a sharp pain. "Why did you marry him! Don't you love me anymore?!" Amidst the commotion, the driver only vaguely heard these words; the man's cries were hoarse with pain.

Her patience was wearing thin. Lihua bit her lower lip and, as if making a firm decision, slowly rolled down the car window. "Lihua!" The man exclaimed, both surprised and delighted, stretching out his arms as if to leap into the car. "Tell me, those were all fake, weren't they?"

The woman coldly silenced his enthusiasm. "I am indeed getting married," she said, her icy gaze unfamiliar to him. "And the groom is not you."

"Are you satisfied now?" she asked, a cruel smile on her face, looking down at her former lover.

"But we've already..." The man clutched his head helplessly, pounding it repeatedly, "I don't believe it's true! I don't believe it!"

"Stop with your romance novel nonsense. I'm not some naive young girl easily fooled!" Li Hua scoffed, slowly pulling the "thing" into her arms, a sweet and alluring smile spreading across her face. "In the end, besides him and this thing, nothing else can bring me happiness..."

"Him? What is he?" A furious rage suddenly erupted from the man's face. "An old man in his seventies or eighties, a good-for-nothing, scum, trash! In what way am I not better than him, except for being rich!" He knelt by the car window, pleading with her, "Lihua, I know you're angry with me. I promise you, I'll change all my flaws, okay? I can't live without you, Lihua!" He grasped the woman's hand, but it felt as cold as ice in his palm. "After all, we've been together for so long... Apart from a marriage certificate, we're practically husband and wife..."

The woman didn't even glance at him, and directly ordered the driver, "Drive."

The driver hesitated.

"I told you to drive, didn't you hear me?" The woman suddenly raised her voice, so shrill and piercing. "The wind outside stinks!"

"You're so heartless? No, I absolutely won't allow it!" Faced with this situation, the man was filled with despair. Rage—no, it should be said, a surging murderous intent rose in his eyes. "If I can't have you, no one else can!" He suddenly raised his wrist, and a stream of highly acidic liquid splashed onto her face, instantly creating a terrifying white mist. "I'll destroy you!"

Strangely, Lihua didn't scream as he expected; on the contrary, she was surprisingly calm. "Luckily, I was prepared." She slowly raised her head. Thick sulfuric acid, mixed with acidic mist, rose from her fair skin, shrouding her face in a hazy mist. Even the most observant person could see that beneath the mist, her face was blank…no crimson lips, no prominent nose… She slowly removed her sunglasses, revealing no eyes beneath them…her face was like a sheet of white paper, with only the sulfuric acid flowing freely across it…

“I’ve deposited my face in a universal bank. Even in ten or twenty years, I’m sure my face will still be just as perfect as it is now,” Lihua said softly, linking her arm with her husband’s. Her first fake face had already been destroyed by sulfuric acid, so she immediately replaced it with a new one, one that looked exactly like her original self.

"Hehehe, such a delicate and beautiful face, I can never get enough of looking at it." The husband trembled as he put on his reading glasses, greedily staring at every part of her exposed body. His tongue kept licking his lower lip, and saliva was almost dripping down.

“However, girls these days don’t pay attention to traditional virtues. It’s rare to find a girl as pure as you…” Her husband looked at her with a suspicious gaze. “You won’t disappoint me, will you?”

Of course not! Lihua had absolute confidence, which is why she needed to retrieve that "thing" she had kept for twenty years from the universal bank—the very thing that had prevented her mother from marrying into a wealthy family back then…

That is chastity.

Lihua, who had slept with her boyfriend hundreds or even thousands of times but was still a virgin, exuded an air of unparalleled composure and confidence, with only one thought in her mind:

"Long live the universal bank!"

So she smiled, opened her body, and offered her virginity, which she had kept hidden for twenty years, to her husband.

Short Story Collection: Random Elevator in an Absurd Kingdom

Life is like a piece of wood drifting with the current, sometimes floating east, sometimes west.

Only recently did he truly understand the meaning of that sentence. He was just an ordinary office worker, living a mundane, nine-to-five life. His passion for life had long since faded silently, and boredom slowly seeped into his mind and body. Sometimes he even felt that this daily repetition would continue indefinitely until he died. One day, he left home a little later than usual and, realizing he was going to miss the subway, hurriedly took a taxi to the office. The taxi fare was expensive—after all, gas prices had gone up yesterday—but compared to the consequences of being late, it was obviously insignificant. He had an appointment with an important client today, and he couldn't afford to neglect them! He rushed out of the taxi, not even having time to collect his change, and dashed towards the elevator.

Strangely enough, there wasn't a single person in front of the elevator. He hurriedly pressed the button, and...? His eyes widened in surprise. The row of indicator lights above the elevator, which had previously shown the floor level, was completely gone. In its place was something like a die, with numbers jumping wildly. Before he could get a good look at it, a ding-dong sounded, and the elevator had arrived.

He glanced at his watch and breathed a sigh of relief. There was still plenty of time before the agreed time. He realized then that his recent sprint had exhausted him; his shirt was soaked with sweat, clinging uncomfortably to his back. He loosened his tie, letting out a long, relieved sigh. A gentle breeze from above brought him immense comfort and ease. The elevator continued its humming, and suddenly he sensed something was wrong—

His company is only on the twelfth floor, so why has the elevator taken so long to climb? It's been more than ten minutes!

"Open the door! Open the door!" he shouted, banging on the elevator door and randomly pressing the alarm. Something's not right! If it were just a malfunction, it would automatically stop at a lower floor, instead of endlessly climbing upwards like this... This building isn't that tall!

With a ding, the elevator doors opened. He rushed out impatiently; after all, an important client was waiting for him! But where was he?

There was no familiar building. He turned around in disbelief. Behind him, there wasn't even the elevator that had just released him... All he could see was green, vast expanses of pure, unadulterated green fields.

"Customer... elevator..." Only these two words rolled on his tongue when he was found. A stranger collapsed from exhaustion, muttering incomprehensible words, much to the bewilderment of his caregivers. Half a day later, he finally awoke, the first thing he saw being the girl tending to him.

She was a girl with captivating black eyes; he fell in love with her at first sight.

Despite this, he didn't forget his work and was determined to take the girl back to the company. However, after several days of difficult communication, he gradually realized that this was a pipe dream. This grassland seemed to belong to China, as everyone he encountered spoke fluent Mandarin. Strangely, they claimed to be from the Kingdom of Griffin on the continent of Erathia, ruled by a lord dispatched by His Majesty the King. Since it was a feudal kingdom, they had never used or even heard of modern electrical products like telephones, televisions, or elevators. His cell phone made strange noises, scaring the girl half to death, and she ended up burying it—if the lord had found it, he, the sorcerer, would have been the one buried alive. He also searched the wilderness for the eerie elevator, but only the desolate echoes of the wilderness answered him. He seemed to have given up hope and, relying on his limited scientific knowledge, began to instruct the local people on how to improve their productivity. Through day after day of hard work, he became tanned, thinner, and stronger. He reaped his first bountiful harvest of the autumn, and also earned the respect of the villagers and the love of a young woman.

They got married.

Their life was so happy it bordered on the mundane. They had two children, a strong boy and a beautiful girl. He spent his days taking his son hunting, plucking pheasant feathers to bring as gifts for his daughter. To him, companies and clients seemed like things from a past life; now, all he cared about was the small wish of protecting his family.

However, this peaceful period was short-lived. War broke out across the continent of Erathia, and neighboring elven tribes attacked the Kingdom of Griffin, including his village. He and his family hid in a cave, secretly hunting for them, each time risking their lives. One day, while traversing the mountains with his hunting bow, he noticed something strange rolling ahead.

It looked like a small cube, with a tiny number flashing on it. He curiously touched it, and then a thought struck him. He suddenly remembered—it seemed to be something called a die from a very, very long time ago…!

It was too late! By the time he came to his senses, he was back in the elevator, the cold iron doors mercilessly separating him from his wife and children. "Open the door! Open the door!" he screamed hoarsely, his fists pounding the door with increasing despair. They were still waiting for me! They would starve to death! One terrible thought after another flashed through his mind, but the elevator showed no sign of stopping, once again leaving him in an unfamiliar place.

This time, he became a restaurant owner and ran a thriving business. Although he was successful and in his prime at thirty, he politely declined matchmakers' proposals and insisted on remaining single—after all, in his heart, he already had his black-eyed wife and their two children. He was still waiting patiently for the day he could take the elevator back to the continent of Erathia and reunite with his family.

He did indeed take the elevator again, only to find himself in an unfamiliar place. The elevator was random; perhaps next time, or the time after that, he could return to the past? With this thought in mind, he took the elevator again and again, without hesitation—he could no longer figure out whether he wanted to return to the identity of an ordinary office worker, a hunter of the kingdom, or a hotel manager. His back grew increasingly hunched, his shoulders increasingly droopy, and his hair increasingly white. Sometimes he considered giving up; perhaps staying in this place wasn't so bad. However, the random elevator ignored his will, stubbornly sending him to new locations.

He entered a nursing home at the age of sixty.

At seventy, he entered the elevator again in a wheelchair. The mirror inside clearly reflected his aged appearance. He had spent his whole life searching, but never understood what he was searching for. The elevator then caused him to run around aimlessly, only to waste his years and achieve nothing; all his efforts were in vain. Looking at his rampant white hair in the mirror, he suddenly burst into wild laughter.

"Life is like rape; if you can't resist, just close your eyes and enjoy it!" He suddenly remembered a quote he had read many years ago.

"Damn, that's accurate!" he cursed viciously.

Short Story Collection: Remotely Controlling a Married Woman in an Absurd Country (Part 1)

No money, no woman—this is Yuan Zidan's happy life.

He received a rigorous scientific education even before he was born, and began learning to read and write before he was even out of bed—as the only son in three generations of the Yuan family, the sole offspring of six hundred acres of land, he carried the earnest hopes of his ancestors for hundreds of years—to "bring honor to the family." He strived for a top-tier primary school in preschool, studied diligently for a top-tier middle school in primary school, and tortured himself beyond recognition for the college entrance examination in middle school—finally getting into university, but before the "university student" label could shine, he discovered that with the expansion of university enrollment, everyone on the street, walking, running, and crawling, carried a university degree. Even the Shaolin Temple required a bachelor's degree or higher to recruit monks, preferably with a passing grade in English (CET-6). Barely graduating, Yuan Zidan couldn't go to the Shaolin Temple for further studies and could only work as an ordinary office worker in a small company. The salary wasn't high, but it was enough to cover his daily expenses. The only thing that troubled him was…

Forget about a wife, I can't even afford to support a girlfriend.

In today's society, any woman who is truly beautiful—no, even just a little bit attractive, not so much that she's practically a gold digger—is expected to marry a man who owns a house and a car. Even if they don't own a house now, they can't get married without a proper home, right? Needless to say, the current accepted practice is for the man to make the down payment, with the couple then using their combined salaries for twenty or thirty years, or even a lifetime, to pay for the house. An 80-square-meter mid-sized apartment in Shanghai costs over 6,000 yuan per square meter on average. Even if prices are lower here, it's still around 4,000 yuan per square meter, bringing the total price to around 400,000 yuan. A 30% down payment would be 120,000 yuan. With Yuan Zidan's monthly salary of just over 3,000 yuan, she would have to tighten her belt and not eat or drink for over three years to save that much money—and even then, it wouldn't be enough to live there; renovation and furniture costs would be extra. That's not all. There's also the money for the bride's family, the wedding banquet, wedding photos, wedding car rental, and so on... Oh, and the diamond ring is another huge expense. Apparently, these days brides-to-be are incredibly shrewd; they won't even look at a diamond ring smaller than 50 points (0.1 carats), saying it doesn't hold its value—goodness, that's another 15,000 yuan, 150 heavy 100-yuan bills, a full five months' salary!

This is why Yuan Zidan has remained single. He missed out on the sweet romances of his student days, and he can't afford the material comforts of marriage in today's society. Every day after get off work, the only thing he can do is bury himself in front of the television, glued to the sports channel. While the intense competition between men certainly excites him, the agile and flexible bodies of female athletes, their powerful yet graceful movements, make his heart flutter even more. He almost wants to hug the television and shout: "God, grant me a strong and beautiful woman!"