On my way to and from work, I always have to pass through a village.
However, despite being called a "village," it is almost completely different from the concept of a "village" that is deeply ingrained in my memory.
The dense spacing between buildings squeezes out narrow, dark paths that are devoid of sunlight. Occasionally, dim red bricks protrude, reminiscent of an old man with rough facial features, a bad temper, and a few large teeth sticking out from his lips. Occasionally, there are white boards hanging on the side of the road, with prices and contact information written in neat or distorted black oil pens, enticing the passing migrant workers with their low rent and "exquisite" environment.
No, I'm not exaggerating. At the entrance of these self-built small buildings in the village, which exist in the form of companies and are full of their own characteristics, there is often a sign that reads "XXXX Boutique Apartments." If you are willing to overlook the environment, lighting, and comfort, then the minimum monthly rent of a few hundred yuan and the extremely convenient location are enough to prove that the landlords are not lying.
On this evening, the night had already become dark. The dark clouds hung like heavy curtains in the sky, blocking the cold moonlight. The moisture brought by days of precipitation seemed to be trapped, rolling in the air and giving pedestrians a sticky and slippery feeling.
Just like the past few hundred days, I held my phone as usual and walked on the uneven sidewalk. One shop after another lined the roadside, and the lights under the signs emitted colorful and hazy colors, appearing misty in the moisture. Due to the cramped interior space, most of the shops that sell food would also place a few extra tables at the entrance, squeezing the already narrow road as much as possible.
Making way for oncoming pedestrians, avoiding the invading tables and chairs, exhaling the moist air mixed with the smell of grease, I walked slowly on the road like this - the uneven stone brick road always caused great inconvenience for those with poor balance.
While walking, a cool feeling seeped into my head. Subconsciously, I looked up and saw a droplet on the eaves becoming fuller, swaying as if it was eager to experience the feeling of shattering itself. I was in a daze, stopped, and was about to rub my hair to wake myself up, but suddenly heard a harsh horn.
I turned my head and saw a small pink helmet, outlining an oval shape in the yellow beam of light. There should be a face below, but for a moment, it was difficult to tell whether it was a man or a woman. This electric scooter was so small that the person riding on it also looked like a child - short, slender, and irritable. Before the rider could irritate my ears again, I instinctively turned my body aside and let them pass arrogantly.
The sound of my heart beating wildly came from my chest, and I looked at the empty road beside me, subconsciously touching my chest, until another droplet hit my neck, awakening this silent, tired, and innocent pedestrian under the eaves.
I remembered that a friend had previously advised me to buy a small electric scooter. "It's very convenient for commuting, and it's faster than waiting for the bus," he said at the time. I agreed with his statement but rejected the proposal.
Later, from one day on, he also started driving to work. I asked why, and it was quite simple: he collided with another car on the road and scratched his arm. In the end, he sighed and said, "It's safest to ride an electric scooter on the sidewalk."
I continued to nod in agreement, as what he said made a lot of sense.
So I stubbornly insisted on walking and taking the bus as usual.
So I continued to dislike the vehicles that shuttle on the sidewalk, whether they are human-powered or electric-powered.