Bill Doubts

After retiring, Old Li became obsessed with the internet, or more precisely, with "reconciling accounts" with American netizens. It's a strange thing to say, but it started with a post about a "China-US price comparison." Bored, he began arguing with a few American netizens. At first, it was just a comparison of who had more expensive eggs, but later it evolved into posting bills – utilities, property fees, internet fees, even grocery lists.

Old Li communicated with them using his broken English, but he was having a great time. He felt he had found a new hobby, which he grandly called "promoting international exchange." He often said, "Look, foreigners are the same, they also have to worry about pennies and dimes!"

But recently, this "reconciliation" had taken a strange turn. The American netizen on the other side, a young man named "Gary," started posting bills that made Old Li's jaw drop: space travel booking fees, private island maintenance fees, and even Mars immigration consultation fees.

Looking at those astronomical figures, Old Li initially thought Gary was joking. Then he realized that the consumption receipts he posted were real, just that they included items that ordinary people could hardly imagine. He began to feel that this "reconciliation" was a bit off. What was originally intended to find a common ground in life had now become pure awe.

Gary, however, didn't think so. Instead, he became more enthusiastic about "sharing" his "daily life" with Old Li. He began to note subtle things on the bills, such as "carbon emission compensation fees" for purchasing rare plants, or "mental wellness package fees" to reduce "social media anxiety." Gary also frequently sighed in their chats, "Life is so good, technology is so advanced."

Old Li looked at Gary’s eternally sunny profile picture, and felt a mix of emotions. He scrimped and saved every day, arguing with vendors over a few cents' difference in the price of vegetables, while the other person was "worried" about space travel and mental wellness.

Until one day, Gary sent a new bill with only one word written on it: "Connection." Old Li asked in confusion, "What's this?" Gary replied, "It's a 'connection fee'. I need to pay a 'network connection fee' every month to communicate online with netizens like you."

Old Li understood in an instant. A chill ran from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. He finally understood that this seemingly equal "reconciliation" was essentially just a variant of a consumer game. Every bill he posted about his life had become a talking point for the other side, an object to be consumed. He was no longer an individual engaging in communication but just an insignificant number on the other person's bill.

Old Li silently shut down the computer. He thought about how he had been using a magnifying glass to examine those tiny bills every day and felt a deep sense of absurdity. He thought he had found the joy of life, but now it seemed like he was just entertaining himself in a huge consumer trap.

He went to the balcony and looked at the bustling crowd in the neighborhood, all struggling for life, worried about bills. Old Li suddenly felt that Gary might be the same, except that the "worries" on his bill were something he would never reach. He sighed, turned off his phone, and decided to go to bed early that night.

The next day, Old Li habitually turned on his computer, only to find that Gary's profile picture had turned gray. He clicked on Gary's social media page and found only one recent update: "Due to adjustments in the 'emotional connection' service, the account has been permanently deactivated."

Old Li was stunned. He stared at the cold words "deactivated" on the screen and suddenly felt a sense of inexplicable loss. He thought, perhaps for Gary, he was just a line of numbers on his bill, and for him, wasn't Gary the same?