a knocker who inspect radiators
Beijing Kaleidoscope
Every year in mid-November, the centralized heating awakens, breathing warm life into cold spaces. During this transitional period, mosquitoes drift listlessly through the air, their once-vibrant black bodies fading to a pallid light-brown, their once-aggressive hum reduced to a barely perceptible whisper. Outside my window, the ginkgo tree stands ,its golden leaves hanging precariously, trembling with each breath of wind—seemingly eager to surrender to the impending winter, waiting for a single gust to strip them from their branches.
The bare branches of winter emerge like skeletal fingers, scratching against the leaden grey sky. They reach into undefined spaces, carrying an essence of withering and decay that resonates deep within my memories, transporting me back to my childhood in a south village.
During those years, I returning weekly from the county school. Saturday mornings were dedicated to completing homework, with Sunday afternoons reserved for my journey back to school. These weekends, particularly Saturday afternoons, offered a cherished respite.The afternoon feels much longer than the morning, giving me more time to spend as I wish whether relaxing myself or motivating myself to produce something .
Having lost interest in the iPhone at a young age, I wipe the grey dust from my bicycle seat and ride from town to the rural fields of the village. Walking, driving, riding—these everyday activities don’t require much attention; my mind often wanders. Suddenly, I find myself in a new field, confronted by an entirely different view. I’ve always been slightly amazed by the power of physical transport and fascinated by the fact that abroad a vessel , you can stand on the ocean .
It moves me from one place to another, shifting my emotions in the process. In that moment, it transports me from the monotonous, tedious school-home routine to the openness of the fields. A cool breeze brushes my face, some of it slipping down my neck. I breathe in the fresh, elusive air, watching the endless flatlands stretch before me, unaware of the movement of my legs, only noticing the scenery unfolding on the horizon, vanishing behind me seconds later. I’m healing from the weariness of my studies. As Dostoevsky wrote in The Brothers Karamazov: 'The sacrifice of their lives may be the easiest of all sacrifices—much easier, for example, than giving up five or six years of their seething youth to hard study, to the acquisition of knowledge that would increase their strength tenfold in service of that same cause, and in the performance of the great works they aspire to.
On that quiet, withering, and gloomy November day, I rode alone, encountering no one along my journey—only fleeting scenes emerging and fading. Two in particular captivated me.
One scene was a blurred, desolate ruin in earthy tones, veiled by the stillness of evergreen pomelo trees on the far side of a narrow brook, about four meters wide. Even in its broken state, the ruins hinted at a mundane house that once belonged to someone. In this place, winters are mild, with temperatures never dropping below 5°C. The river never freezes; it moves sluggishly, almost like a stagnant pool. In winter, everything remains still, as though in silent obedience to the season's rhythm.The scene held my gaze for five minutes. I turned my head directly toward it, captivated by its unspoken stillness—the blurred blend of dark green and pale yellow. Riding past, the impression lingered, etching itself deeply into my mind. The motionless calm stayed with me for a long time.When I finally returned to myself, a new scene unfolded before me: a barren, fallow field, its dark soil laid bare beneath the open sky
Another scene unfolded as I rode alongside the quiet brook. Slanting rays of sunlight filtered through the trees, and I found myself surrounded by that same soft light. Most of the trees were evergreen, but after passing several bamboo groves, I came upon a cluster of trees shedding their leaves. Having lived in that village my entire childhood, it was the first time I had seen red leaves. Most of them had already fallen to the brook and the surrounding soil, a rare scattering of crimson mingling with the gradient earthy tones. The leaves floated in the stillness of the water, their color softly blending with the shadows of the brook. The slanting rays of light illuminated them, adding a warmth to the scene. The mottled hues of amber and red shimmered quietly, as if the world itself was glowing.
The trees around me had shed their leaves, revealing bare branches. One side of each tree caught the light, glowing a soft brown, while the other side remained dark, blending seamlessly with the surrounding evergreens. It was a moment of quiet amber light, almost like the scene itself was alive. In that moment, I felt as though part of me had been touched by the light, too.
Autumn’s red leaves hold a universal beauty, but when those slanting rays shine through them, they become something more—a fortunate beauty that only those who have experienced it can truly appreciate. If you were to lean against an autumn tree, you might find yourself becoming part of the scene, like a figure in a folk artist's painting.
It was a windy clear sunny day, the kind that blew all the golden leaves away. As I watched the scene outside my window, an annoying knocking sound interrupted the stillness.A sharp knock—sudden, harsh—sliced through the house's quiet.I opened the door.A rough large man stood there, his eyes full of haste and urgency. His appearance reminds me of a loan shark.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Checking the radiators."
"You checked them just a few days ago."
"No, the second floor’s radiator isn’t warm."
"Alright." I stepped aside to let him in. Eddy, sensing the stranger’s haste, fixed his gaze on him, wary of any strange behavior. Afterwards , he told me "These years economy is not well , there is more people having a bad intention "
The man yanked at the radiator valve, twisting it violently ,impatiently —first up, then down—attempting to increase the flow and speed.Then without any pause , he left directly. Then we came to our mind. Hearing a loud rush, the radiator began to hum. "Silly man. such irresponsible "I thought to myself . Eddy approached the valve, his hands methodical. A quarter turn. Another. The rushing sound died.
A week later, the man knocked again, this time even harder.Knock after knock. "Haven’t you checked the radiator before?" Eddy questioned . Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left quickly. "He seems to only want to knock and see if we open the door," I said "I’m sure he’s personally hired by the second-floor resident. The property administrator won't do things incompletely.Be careful" Eddy replied.
Another week passed, and he knocked again. Always hurried. Always incomplete. This time, he first went to our neighbor's apartment. When no one answered, he came to our door. He was accompanied by another man. As Eddy opened the door, the second man was already descending the stairs. The first man yawned, calling his name, but received no response. Without another word once more , he continued down the stairs, as if we didn’t exist. We shut the door, irritated by the hasty, unhelpful behavior of the man. It was as if his job was merely to knock and leave, without actually fixing anything.
After that, he never knocked on our door again. Instead, he moved his focus to the neighbors above us. Every morning, we could hear his annoying knocking. We never found out if his actions had any effect, but it continued for an entire month."He even didn't look like a real technician"
I've saw another instance the employer do not caring how to work out the problem .
The autumn's beauty had long faded, with winter's first snow still weeks away. The scenery in the park was a disappointment. That weekend, we avoided the park intentionally, instead spending time in big malls.We weren't there to buy anything—just strolling, checking if any new clothes had appeared on the racks.
We casually entered a cashmere shop, the soft hum of the cashmere store wrapping around us like the gentle warmth of a well-worn sweater. There were two salespeople present: one with short, neat hair, and the other withs long hair . As we walked in, the short-haired woman immediately approached us, while the long-haired one remained standing at the desk, speaking into her phone.
Eddy’s eyes flicked to an elderly couple—maybe in their 50s—seating on the shop's sofa. I didn’t pay much attention to their appearance . They are plain-looking people who were forgettable and invisible. But there was something in their demeanor—an anxious, almost furtive energy—that unsettling vibe in the air.
We were greeted by the short-haired salesperson, and as she began to show us the new arrivals, the elderly couple seized their chance. With barely a glance toward the door, they hurriedly made their way out of the shop, their movements swift and deliberate, heads down as if they feared being noticed.
As the short-haired salesperson saw the couple leaving, she stood by the door and called out, “Mr. Mr.” but didn’t take a single step forward. “Catch up with them, hurry!” Eddy urged, but she remained motionless, only tilted the head.Hearing our voices, the couple hurriedly darted into a nearby shop, just a few steps from the cashmere store.
We still didn’t know exactly what had happened. Then, the long-haired salesperson’s voice broke the silence, her tone flat. “How much is it? A customer dropped a cashmere sweater along with a hanger, and it’s damaged—there’s a hole in it.” She added, “500.” That’s when it clicked. We finally understood what had transpired.
I continued trying on cardigans, though most of the styles were almost identical to ones I’d already seen at another brand’s store. I also overheard rumors about this brand poaching talent from its competitors. What had once been hearsay was now evident.
The two salespeople continued their quiet conversation. “She should’ve bought the sweater. We’ll check the video footage to see where she went,” the long-haired one said, though she didn’t make any calls.“Yeah, people like that should be condemned. They’ll lose sleep over it,” the short-haired one replied. "Check where they have gone " The short-haired salesperson hurried out again, scanning the mall's passage left and right before stepping her steps. After a while , she returned shaking her head. “ I've seen they were heading into that shop.I don’t know where they went.But I didn’t see them. "
We continued trying on clothes. Later, as we were about to leave, Eddy spotted the couple heading toward the escalator. “Look, that’s them,” he pointed out slowly knowing these salesperson negative attitude. The short-haired salesperson saw them too but didn’t follow. She just returned to the store.
We walked toward the restroom, which was in the same direction. After we were finished and ready to leave, the short-haired salesperson appeared again
“Where are they?” she asked.
“They’re gone,” Eddy answered calmly.
“I saw them heading this way,” she insisted.
“I pointed them out to you,” Eddy replied, sounding a little cold. “You didn’t follow.”
She paused a second before returned to the store.I saw her face.Her expression shifted slightly—she tried to hide it, but I could tell. There was a hint of relief behind the surface frown, as if the tension that had gripped her for the past few minutes had finally begun to fade."They really couldn't be bothered to intervene. Even after being reminded, she still didn’t go after them. They’d rather avoid trouble"Eddy said.
When we emerged from the mall, the night had already fallen. The dim orange glow of streetlights illuminated the path as we walked home. Instead of taking the main road, with its eight lanes of traffic, we chose to bypass it, slipping into the quieter, narrower lanes tucked away in the residential block. The silence there was almost tangible. Even in the busiest, noisiest places, a large residential area brings a certain tranquility.
Under the dark sky, with the temperature dipping to 1 or 2 degrees, we were bundled up tightly—rex rabbit mittens, cashmere hats, and scarves wrapped snugly around us, leaving only our eyes exposed. The warmth of our layers made the cold night feel almost unreal, as though the winter season itself was disconnected from my senses.
Walking down the lane, we could only hear our voices in conversation. When we fell silent, the sound of our footsteps filled the air. Cars appeared occasionally, but they never honked. In the entire 15-minute walk, we saw only one person. At first, we walked ahead of him, hearing him speak into his phone. His pace was quick.We reached a row of ginkgo trees, which had been golden just a week ago. Now, only the dark, bare branches remained. The man, dressed entirely in black down jacket,walked ahead of us,phone pressed to his ear."Sister Wang, Sister Wang, repay the money," he said. "You promised two months ago. It's been too long." He paused, listening. "The time is too long. Pay me back as soon as you can. You don’t want to see me at your door. It’ll be embarrassing for both of us. So, Sister, repay my money."Then he turned and disappeared from our sight.
We exchanged looks, both of us knowing this was just another sign of the economic hardship of these years. Businesses were closing down, people were losing jobs. Without salaries, lives were becoming more difficult, and people were growing increasingly sensitive to money—intensifying the cycle of closures and layoffs. The economy, it seemed, was as cold as the winter night. The malls we usually shopped at had been offering discounts almost every month, one after another. I’d never seen so many sales. In times of economic hardship, when everything is dropping, it’s a prime opportunity for bottom fishing.
As we continued walking, my mind lingered on these two incidents—the inefficient employees, the ones who didn't want to take on any extra tasks. For them, doing one less thing was a relief, since it didn’t affect their pay. They weren’t motivated to solve problems; in fact, the system didn’t reward them for solving problems. Even if they were paid specifically to resolve issues, it wouldn’t guarantee they’d do it properly. Instead, they procrastinated, dragged things out, and focused on shallow efforts to appear busy.As I thought about this, I saw a small barber shop down the lane, its bright pink banner standing out in the dark, lights glowing sharply. In contrast to those who avoided responsibility, those who owned their own businesses were focused on improving and moving forward. Of course, there are exceptions. It’s only the young, or those with a youthful mindset, who are driven by the desire to grow and improve.
Regardless of the circumstances, it’s all part of human nature—people are inherently lazy. As long as they don’t get in your way, it’s fine.
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