The Temperature of Electronic Red Envelopes
Old Li was used to giving his son a big red envelope on New Year's Eve for good luck. In previous years, they were always bulky, tangible ones, wrapped in brand-new red paper, heavy and filled with human touch. This year was different. His son was far overseas, so he could only send an electronic red envelope.
He opened his phone, found his son on WeChat, hesitated for a moment, tapped on the red envelope, and typed in the auspicious number "888". At the moment he confirmed sending it, he felt like something was missing. He missed the texture of the red paper, the ritual of handing it over, and the joy his son would have when receiving the envelope.
On New Year's Eve, red envelopes flew around in WeChat groups. Old Li looked at the messages wishing "Congratulations and may you be prosperous", feeling like an outsider. He clicked on one red envelope after another, finding only a few cents or a few dimes. Everyone seemed to be pursuing a lucky number, but the red envelope itself had lost its warmth.
Old Li also received a red envelope from his son, the amount being "666". He clicked on it, and an animation popped up on the screen, with little figures dancing merrily to upbeat electronic music. He flipped his phone back and forth, unable to find any blessing from his son. He sighed and put the phone aside.
Over the next few days, Old Li found himself obsessed with electronic red envelopes. He frequently opened WeChat, checking for new envelopes. Like a game player, he yearned for the next reward, for the increase in numbers. He started sending red envelopes frequently in the group chats, not in large amounts, but at a high frequency, seemingly seeking a sense of being noticed.
He joined a "Red Envelope Mutual Help Group". People in the group were enthusiastic about sending and grabbing red envelopes, as if this was the whole meaning of celebrating the New Year. They didn't care about the size of the envelope, only the thrill of grabbing it. Old Li felt that he had become like them, like an addict trapped in a digital game.
One day, Old Li suddenly found a message from his son. "Dad, I received many electronic red envelopes this year, but it feels like something is missing." Old Li was stunned. He thought of the "888" red envelope he had sent and felt a mix of emotions.
He decided to do something. He opened his phone, found his son's WeChat, and sent a voice message, "Son, I sent you something, please check it out."
A few days later, his son showed Old Li the package he received in a video. Inside was nothing else but a stack of brand-new red paper and an old pair of scissors. His son laughed happily in the video, "Dad, this is great, I can wrap my own red envelopes this year."
Looking at his son’s smiling face in the video, Old Li suddenly felt that the numbers in those electronic red envelopes were just cold codes. And the true warmth always exists in the emotional connection between people.
He opened WeChat and deleted all those red envelope groups, suddenly feeling much lighter. He looked at the "Happy New Year 2025" displayed on his phone screen, a bitter smile appearing at the corners of his mouth.
The next day, Old Li was about to go out to buy groceries when his phone suddenly buzzed, indicating a new message. He opened it and saw it was a group red envelope he had grabbed yesterday, the amount being 0.01 yuan, and the sender's nickname showed "System Maintenance". He put his phone back in his pocket, looked up at the sky, which was blue and the sun warm. He took a deep breath and walked towards the market with large strides. He knew that real life wasn’t in that tiny phone screen.
Just as he reached the entrance of the market, he suddenly remembered that he seemed to have sent a voice message to his son yesterday, saying he would send him something? He took out his phone but couldn't find the voice message anywhere. It was as if everything had been just a dream, an absurd dream about electronic red envelopes. He shook his head, smiled, and continued to walk forward.