The days passed, and the work was pretty much the same every day. When I woke up in the morning, yawning, I'd see more and more plastic windows leaning against the wooden posts. My life was consumed by these white windows. Sometimes I felt a pang of fear. We only live once, and I've already wasted most of it, squandering all my precious time trying to earn such a pittance. I'm still wasting my life, my youth gone, never to return. Yet, I'm powerless to change it. 

Sometimes I think it's all the fault of greed. If I were reduced to a beggar, starving, I'd be grateful for a good job, free from hunger and cold, and stop lamenting the waste of my life and youth. 

These days, I rarely go into the office. For my nap, I lie down on the table in the shed in front of the east factory building, oblivious to the crumbs and crumbs that sting my back. I used to nap on the office sofa. At night, I sleep on the bare bed in the small room near the main iron gate. It's hot at night anyway, so I just use it as a way to escape the heat. I used to clean the office after work. Now, I do it in the morning, after my colleagues arrive. I often clean quickly and leave without even looking back. Once, as I was going into the office to collect my paycheck, I happened to look up and see that portrait. I was startled. My face must have turned completely pale. 

Yet, nothing happened. It was still a flat, harmless image. It showed a woman with lowered brows and a gentle expression frozen in her face. My colleagues were counting their paychecks, and the manager was doing the accounts. Everything seemed normal, nothing like a disaster. Reassured, I quickly collected my paycheck, signed my name, and walked out.

As time passed, I began to doubt whether that incident had actually happened. Over the days, the memory of that day grew increasingly hazy, 

like a dream. Even if it had happened, it wouldn't have had much of an impact on me. I always assumed it was just an accident, something that wouldn't happen again. Only later did I realize the magnitude of my mistake. 

For about two weeks, we were incredibly busy. During the day, we had to assign a group of people to install windows, leaving fewer people at the factory. We were so busy at noon that we didn't even have time for a nap. After lunch, we'd pick up our tools and get back to work. At night, after the construction workers returned, we'd work overtime for hours, often finishing at eleven or twelve. As soon as they left, I'd lock the door, grab the washtub, and head to the sink to wash it thoroughly, then fall asleep. When I opened my eyes, a new day had begun. Even though I hadn't gotten enough sleep, even though I was still exhausted, I still struggled out of bed. After a bite of food, I was back working with my colleagues who had hurried over before six-thirty. 

I was constantly sleep-deprived during that time. Sometimes, while installing windows at the construction site, I'd sneak in a few naps. My mind was numb from the sheer busyness, my only thought being to finish the work quickly so I could have a few days' rest. The windows in the yard were dwindling. The raw materials in the workshop were almost gone. Master Yang said, "The project is almost done." 

Finally, the work was done. Time for vacation. Normally, this kind of vacation lasts ten days or half a month, until the construction site gives us the blueprints for the new window design. After all these busy days, I'd already earned my vacation pay, so I didn't have to worry about getting paid less. That day, I slept all day on my bare bed. My bones were limp. 

At five o'clock in the afternoon, I arrived at the office, feeling groggy. I turned on the old color TV and watched the International News while I waited for myself to clear my head. The food was leftover from breakfast; I'd just heat it up. I had to go out to buy dinner. Since I wasn't working anymore and didn't eat much, two steamed buns would be enough. I was calculating. After watching Li Zimeng finish the news, my appetite hadn't yet returned. I stared at the TV, eyes wide open. The program was uninteresting. I switched channels a few times, but nothing good was happening. I considered getting a bowl of tofu pudding to go with my meal, but I wasn't sure if it was still available at this hour. I reached out to turn off the TV. 

Before my fingertips left the button, I vaguely heard the quartz clock on the wall click. Then, a sense of foreboding came over me, as if something extremely dangerous was approaching from behind. I even felt a faint, eerie presence brush past me. It was cold, tinged with the strong smell of blood and the scent of the grave. I shuddered, instantly coming to my senses.