By 30 a.m., many of the stalls on the street had been closed and some of the storefronts had closed a few hours earlier, leaving only a handful of people to fight.

The night market where I am located is surrounded by many small processing factories, most of which are cooperative units of Sijiqing clothing wholesale stores. All year round, as long as the Sijiqing clothing wholesale market has been operating, and has been sending goods to all parts of the country and even abroad, these small processing factories will not stop.

This point is the off-duty time of many small processing factories, and some of the workers in the small processing factories are people who like music, literature and art, and have a petty bourgeois atmosphere, and they (she) are the prospective customers I have been waiting for.

I know the hard work of these people, I also understand their yearning for a better life, and I understand the desire for music in their lives, so I insist on waiting for them to get off work and wait to serve them.

Reality favors the industrious, and reality also likes to reward those who serve the public the most. They take the songs and movies they want to download from me, take them back and lie in bed to enjoy. I put the money they gave me in my pocket, took it back and saved it, and when I had saved a certain amount, I took it to the bank and deposited it. This is the fairest equivalent exchange, which is also the embodiment of the most primitive exchange attribute of the commodity.

After packing up the downloaded tools, moving them into the rented house one by one, taking an inventory to make sure there were no omissions, I turned off the lights, locked the door, pulled out the bicycle from the second-hand market, rode it, and went back.

Normally when I go back, I take a shower and go to bed, but today, I'm not going to do that. Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at my rented place, parked the car first, and locked it. Instead of going straight into the room, I went to the restaurant that wasn't closed yet, ordered a dish, and told the boss to pack it.

With the key to open the door for supper, I rushed to the balcony, where I was looking forward to it. It's hard to sit there and make money for a few hours, but it's hard to get through, and making money is still the most important thing.

I put the supper down and stared at the rock, I wanted to see if it had been moved, and if it did, she must have left a reply on it. Ten seconds later, I was already sure that she had moved the stone and had left a reply on the paper.

Am I divine? No. It's not that I've done my hands and feet on the stone, but I can see from the back of the paper that there are words on the other side of the paper. I was secretly happy in my heart, it seems that this time, she didn't use the painting to make me guess.

I removed the stone, carefully took out the paper, and looked at it, but without immediately turning it over to the other side, and after looking at it for a while, I pressed it back under the stone. I'm so hungry, let's have a supper first, and then I'll talk about it when I'm full, and if she gives me any questions, won't I die of hunger? It's still enough to watch it when you're full, and you have the strength to do everything when you're full, and of course it's okay to solve problems.

I thought so, but in the process of eating supper, I couldn't help but look back at the paper pressed under the stone several times, and thought to myself what was written on the paper? It was like a magic was calling to me.

This time, the reply on the paper was not a drawing, but a line of words, could it be that she left her phone number? Thinking of this, my heart beat faster and my supper slowed down. With a normal mind, I kept reminding myself silently, then adjusted my breathing and began to eat the supper firmly one bite at a time.

When I finally finished eating, I couldn't resist the call of the paper, and before I could throw the fast food box into the trash can on the balcony, I leaned down and quickly pulled the paper out from under the stone with a raised hand. No longer hesitate, turn directly to the other side, and the fateful moment has arrived.

At this moment, it was as if Beethoven's symphony of fate had been played. The greater the hope, the greater the disappointment, and what entered my eyes was not the phone number, but a line of beautiful words. This really makes me happy and sad again. The good thing is that although she didn't leave her phone number, she didn't ignore me, after all, she also replied to my reply, which can be regarded as a kind of courtesy, giving me the opportunity to reply next time, and communicate with her, and when is the time to retribut.

The worry is that she doesn't know what kind of question she will give me this time, you know, it's late at night, and I don't have much time to think about her problems before I have to go to bed. Otherwise, it will delay my rest, tomorrow I have to get up early, make an appointment with Brother Pig, I will go out at five o'clock in the morning, Brother Pig is waiting for me outside, there is something important.

Of course, for me now, the important thing is definitely to make money, no way, to live, to make money is still the most important thing.

Let's see what she wrote, right? The size of the delicate font is uniform, but there is a helplessness between the lines: although it is ripe, the fate is as complete as this paper. She left the sentence on the last line of the paper, and the footsteps were written against the edge of the paper, and even more hateful: it had a minus 3.4 on the bottom margin.

GOOD GUYS, THIS IS IN THE MARGIN SETTING OF WORD TYPESETTING, AND THE BOTTOM IS FILLED IN WITH THREE POINTS FOUR, WHICH LEAVES NO BLANK SPACE AT ALL. The meaning is obvious, I can't write anything underneath at all.

What to do? What can I do? I was so eager to climb over the railing of the balcony at once, to climb over to her balcony, to stand in front of her door, to knock on her door, to pull her out of her sleep, and to tell me what the hell it meant. Why be so hateful? Why do you want to extinguish that hope while giving others hope? Wouldn't she have written a little bit on it and left me some space for a reply? I still have a lot of room where I drew two fennel beans, and I can write many more messages. It was so hateful, and I hated it again in my heart.

Obviously, she did it on purpose. Deliberately didn't let me leave a reply on it, otherwise she wouldn't have added that minus three four. But since she didn't want me to reply, why did she leave a message on it, and add two words to that sentence? Why did she write minus three points four in the margins? Isn't this taking off your pants and farting, and that's an extra move?

Is she sick? Impossible, how can a person who can imagine all the situations in the WORD typesetting be sick? If anyone thinks of her like that, it must be that she is sick. Since she didn't mean that I couldn't reply, what was her purpose?

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration flashed in my mind, she couldn't be testing my wit, was she?

Yes, I fully affirm my idea. My personality is like that, I like to find the best reason to excuse people who have feelings.

The moment I put away the garbage for supper and threw it in the bin, I made a decision that I would respond accordingly, whether she was testing me or if she had some other purpose. I can't lose to her, I have to convince her that she has nothing to say. Once again, my pride pushed me to figure it out.

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