Factory girls don't slack off; they don't just talk about being refined, nor do they spend all day thinking about trivial matters. Others know that hard work leads to wealth; they produce on the assembly line with hoods, just like men, with four shifts and three rotations. Early shift, early shift, middle shift, middle shift, rest, rest, night shift, night shift, middle shift, middle shift, rest, rest; they earn 4000 a month, along with medical insurance and social security. Every time they receive their salary, they happily come to share it with you. When the two of you get home, you casually eat whatever and then start having sex, happily. You lie in a big 'one' shape under the fan with your chicken legs dangling to the left, playing some silly mobile game "Defend the Carrot 3". She squats in the bathroom, rubbing your underwear and smelly socks on the ground, finally hanging the deformed underwire bra on the hanger. What's wrong with that? Isn't it better than going home with a little fairy and getting scolded?

Sometimes when you wander the streets, you think back to the days of the past, away from the CBD, away from the high-end lifestyle. You graduated from university that year, worked in sales, handed out flyers, and made milk foam at an entrepreneurial bubble tea stall. To have a sex life, you found a factory girl from Foxconn; in winter, you would warm each other up, she wore cotton slippers and pink thermal leggings, squatting on the ground, giving you oral sex, asking several times why you hadn't come yet. You were a university student, and she thought you were great, wanting to be with you for a lifetime. In the end, all of this melted away like a snowflake in this world.