Water&Well&Page
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I think to write, I write to think
Stories (70)
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Two Mothers, Two Sons, One City
My name is Chen Xiaobei. I was born in '98, graduated in 2019, and found a job in internet operations in Hangzhou. To be honest, when I first arrived in Hangzhou, I was completely overwhelmed. My monthly salary was 4,500 yuan, and rent was 1,800 for a tiny shared room. Later, when my roommate moved out, I couldn't afford the place on my own, so I went on Douban to look for a new co-living arrangement.
By Water&Well&Pageabout 4 hours ago in Humans
The Ordinary Wisdom of a "Clumsy" Life
My name is Wang Defu, and I am sixty-five years old. To be honest—and don't laugh—I’ve just been an ordinary worker my whole life. I never had any grand talents; I spent thirty years tightening bolts at the factory, and my pension is nothing to write home about. My wife passed away years ago, and after my son got married, I lived alone in our old apartment. Life was quiet, and I liked it that way.
By Water&Well&Pageabout 12 hours ago in Writers
The Cost of Kinship
My mom called just as I had walked through the door after work, before I’d even had a chance to change my shoes. "Daughter, I need to discuss something with you." Her voice on the other end was cautious and tentative. I knew that tone all too well; it was the one she used whenever she was about to ask for something difficult.
By Water&Well&Pagea day ago in Lifehack
The Weight of Ten Thousand Dollars
I never imagined that the words "saving money" could cause such a stir because of my father. My father turned 53 last year. He has spent half his life living in our small county town. His work isn't what people call "respectable"—mixing cement and hauling bricks on construction sites. Later, as he aged and his knees could no longer take the strain, he found a job as a security guard at a factory, earning 2,800 yuan a month. My mother works as a supermarket stocker, making just over 2,000. Together, they don't even bring home 5,000 yuan a month.
By Water&Well&Pagea day ago in Humans
The Old Drifters' Journey Home
My name is Old Chen, and I am sixty-three years old. My wife is two years younger than me; she just turned sixty. Thinking back, we arrived in Hangzhou the year my grandson finished his first month of life—a tradition we call manyue. Just like that, eight years have slipped by.
By Water&Well&Page2 days ago in Humans
Thirty-Seven Missed Calls and the Limit of a Father’s Love
My name is Lao Zhou, and I’m sixty-three this year. Don’t let the age fool you; my hair has turned as white as a fresh snowfall over the last few years. It all goes back to a night last winter—a night I’ll never forget as long as I live.
By Water&Well&Page2 days ago in Humans
The Eight Realities of Men Over 54
Lao Zhang is 56 this year. He just finished his retirement paperwork last month. The night before last, he swung by my place with two bottles of beer. The moment he stepped through the door, he let out a heavy sigh. "Brother, let me tell you—once a man crosses fifty-four, it’s like cresting a mountain ridge. Looking ahead, it’s all downhill; looking back, the scenery is beautiful, but your legs just don’t have the strength they used to."
By Water&Well&Page3 days ago in Lifehack
