The Koi's Woven Bag

Old Li set up a stall selling goldfish at Guanyin Bridge. He watched as the ornamental pond under the bridge became a graveyard for koi. Red, white, black, crammed into more than thirty woven bags, they looked just like the harvested rice in autumn.

He squatted by the bridge, a cigarette dangling from his lips, watching the sanitation workers laboriously carry them onto the truck. Occasionally, a few curious passersby paused, like watching a silent drama. Old Li didn't say anything; he knew that this spectacle had nothing to do with him.

Just last month, this pond was still magnificent. They said it was to create a "harmonious ecosystem," and the city allocated funds to buy hundreds of koi. Old Li remembered that the koi were all large and brightly colored, becoming the stars of Guanyin Bridge as soon as they entered the pond. People came to take photos and make wishes every day. At that time, Old Li’s goldfish business had become much quieter.

But the good times didn't last long. In just a few days, the pond turned as green as a puddle of mud. The koi began to float belly-up, one or two, then more and more. The stench of dead fish permeated the water, making the air foul.

The sanitation workers said that the pond was not well-built, and the filtration system was just a decoration; the water quality couldn't be maintained at all. But who cared? This pond was like a delicate fish tank, placed there for people to admire; as for the fish's lives, who cared?

Old Li stubbed out his cigarette, suddenly realizing something. These koi, aren’t they just like him? Busy every day, seemingly free, but actually trapped in their own small "fish tanks". Looking up, there are the "water surfaces" of steel and concrete; looking down, there is the crowded mass of people; where is there any choice?

Suddenly, a black car stopped by the bridge. A man in a suit got out and walked straight to the sanitation workers. Old Li heard the man ask, "How's the fish disposal going? Has it affected the 'harmonious ecosystem'?"

The sanitation worker nodded and bowed, “They're all packed. I guarantee you won't be able to tell."

The man nodded with satisfaction and pointed to the pond, “Clean up the green algae over there too, don't affect the image.”

Old Li looked at the man, thinking of the goldfish in his own fish tank that were taken away. They were once vibrant, they once swam freely, they were once watched by crowds, but in the end, they were all packed into woven bags.

As the man turned to leave, Old Li suddenly stopped him, "Sir, will they raise fish again in the future?"

The man turned back, with a professional smile, "Of course, next year we will have an 'upgraded version', guaranteed to make Guanyin Bridge even better."

Old Li was stunned. It turned out that this was not just the fate of a pond of koi. He touched the change in his pocket from selling fish and watched the departing car. He suddenly understood: perhaps we are all koi in a fish tanks, destined, watched, and replaced.