Cushion Spectacle

Old Wang had been sitting in the train station waiting hall for almost three hours. The hard plastic chair beneath him was causing his back to ache, making him miss his old rattan chair at home even more. It had snowed last night, and the road surface had iced over this morning. Old Wang had fallen, making his back even worse.

He squinted, watching the passengers coming and going in the hall. Suddenly, he noticed some familiar faces—they were the photographers from the "cushion incident" that had been hotly debated online a few days ago. They were back, phones in hand, with a faint hint of excitement on their faces. Carefully, they pulled out some brand-new cushions, printed with "Warm Reminder," from their handbags, skillfully placed them on the hard chairs, and then began posing, flashing bright smiles for the cameras.

Old Wang found it absurd. These people were like actors on a stage, every gesture filled with deliberate posturing. He remembered the news he saw yesterday, which said that these cushions were for "demonstrating the station's humanistic care," but as soon as the photos were taken, they were quickly removed by the staff. And the elderly people who truly needed the cushions were left to continue enduring the hard benches.

"Sigh, young people!" Old Wang sighed inwardly. He shook his head, preparing to get up and buy a bottle of water. He felt that this had nothing to do with him. Just as he stood up, he was stopped by a middle-aged woman wearing a red armband. "Hello, please cooperate for a moment."

The middle-aged woman pointed to the chair he had been sitting on. "We need to conduct a 'warmth' re-inspection of the chairs in this area."

Old Wang was a little bewildered. Before he could react, the middle-aged woman pulled a brand-new cushion from behind her and deftly placed it on the chair he had just vacated. "Please sit back down for a moment. We need to take a photo to record your 'warm experience.'"

Old Wang looked at the cushion, then at the professional smile on the middle-aged woman's face, and suddenly understood. He was not a spectator, but an actor in this absurd play. He smiled, bent down, and with difficulty, sat back down in the chair, the cushion feeling soft beneath him. He looked up at the lens in the middle-aged woman's hand, feeling like a puppet, trapped in this drama called "warmth."

After the photo was taken, the middle-aged woman quickly packed up the cushion, her movements so swift, it was as if the cushion was a luxury that should not be seen. Old Wang sat on the hard bench again, his back feeling even more painful.

He watched the photographers, who were still repeating the same actions with tireless enthusiasm. Suddenly, Old Wang understood them a little. Weren't they also trapped by the rules? Everyone was doing their best to play the roles assigned to them, even if those roles were so absurd.

Just then, the station announcement sounded: "Attention please, the K731 train to Chuncheng is now boarding..."

Old Wang got up, dusted himself off, and slowly walked toward the ticket gate, dragging his tired body.

Suddenly, he remembered something. This morning, before leaving the house, he had put a small foam cushion in his pocket to prevent himself from falling. It was something he had made himself last night from an old sofa to save money.

He secretly took out the cushion and, when no one was looking, quietly stuffed it into the gap in the hard bench he had just sat on. Then, he straightened his back and started walking. This time, his back was no longer hunched.