The Shanghai Metro Line 2 is the city's longest subway line, stretching from Pudong International Airport in the east all the way to Hongqiao Railway Station in the west, cutting across the heart of Shanghai. It passes through crowded areas like Chuansha, Zhangjiang Software Park, Lujiazui, Nanjing Road, and Jing'an. Forget about finding a seat—just finding a spot to place your feet is already a luxury. Because most of the commuters riding Line 2 back and forth are the classic overworked office workers, the line has earned a humorous nickname: "The Loser Express."
"Oh my god, it's way too crowded!" I frowned as I gazed at the sea of people on the platform. Even though I had mentally prepared for the chaos, seeing the crowd made my heart skip a beat—would my small frame survive this crush? I checked my phone: nine o'clock. If I didn't squeeze in now, I'd miss my scheduled medical checkup.
I work as a programmer in Zhangjiang, employed at a mobile internet company for the past six months. Normally, I drive my trusty N-series Santana to work. But today, the company had booked my physical at a medical center on the west side of the city. There was no choice but to brave the subway—local license plates aren't allowed on elevated roads during rush hour. If it weren't for company perks, I'd never have gone all the way to Puxi. "Fine, let it crush me—unleash my little universe!"
As it turned out, surviving the morning rush on the subway wasn't difficult at all. Just stand in the flow of the crowd, and the unstoppable current would naturally carry your half-asleep body into the car. There's no way to resist.
Once inside, the chaos suddenly subsided. Everyone tacitly stopped their chatter. Most people scrolled through their phones silently; some closed their eyes for a brief rest. I found myself wedged in a corner near the door, staring blankly at the advertisements above the seats. "Which one is this guy dressed like a woman? And who's that inexplicably popular young celebrity?" I couldn't help but marvel at how the media brainwashes people these days—throw enough information at them, and they'll believe anything.
I remembered following a big influencer once. He posted two pictures: in one, the British were reading newspapers on the subway; in the other, the Chinese were glued to their phones. Caption: How to Become a Gentleman. The comments section was full of likes and heated debates. Excited, I left a comment: "Try giving them 4G signal and see what happens." And just like that, I got blocked. A sad story, really. I let out a bitter laugh, closed my eyes, and tried to conserve energy—my stomach was empty, and I hadn't even drunk water since last night. Why did they schedule checkups so early? I dared not ask.
"What? How could this happen?" a loud male voice rang out. I opened my eyes. A middle-aged man was on the phone: "You do this first, then that, and finally this—it'll be fine." "What? Don't understand? Listen, just follow my instructions. First this, then that, then this, and finally that. How can you guys be a subcontractor if you need me to repeat such a simple thing twice?" He sounded slightly annoyed. "Got it? Yes, yes, exactly like that."
Amid the confused stares of those around him, he hung up satisfied. This is the client, I thought, beginning to sympathize with our company's product managers. Earlier, my colleague "Second Brother" and I had been itching to scold him for throwing random requests at us—turns out, everyone has their tough days. I made a mental note to remind Second Brother to treat product managers better.
"Next stop: Jing'an Station. Passengers preparing to disembark, please get ready…" Finally, I reached the station. I quickly checked my phone for the exit, route, and estimated time: 9:40. Ten minutes later, I was standing at the nurse's station.
A young woman in a pink uniform and nurse's cap was busy organizing some papers.
"Hello, I have an appointment for a checkup."
"Hi, please fill out this form first."
She looked up, handing me a sheet with a smile. Alright, not bad—a pretty girl. I sneaked a glance at her name tag: Wang Zifang. But I was too hungry and still holding in last night's water, so I had no time for distractions. I grabbed the form and quickly filled in my basic information: medical history, family background, and so on.
"Huh? Why do you need my parents' info? And my car plate?" I asked, puzzled.
"Oh, our hospital is strict. We need complete information to contact you if necessary. Don't worry, everything is confidential. Also, if you fill it out, you'll get a breakfast voucher—you can eat at the restaurant on the third floor after your checkup." Seeing her charming smile, I thought, fine, the voucher's worth it. I filled out the form quickly.
The checkup itself was routine and uneventful. Finally done, I headed straight to the cafeteria and devoured everything in sight: buns, steamed bread—though sadly, no hot dry noodles. Never mind, I ate my fill. This breakfast voucher was definitely worth it.
By noon, I walked out of Zhangjiang Metro Station with a smile, ready to start what I assumed would be another repetitive day of toil.