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I was deeply moved by the article I read on the “Food, Pharmaceutical, and Chemical Machinery Talent Network”; I hope it will also be inspiring to you. A Warm Winter Night, by Xue Xiaochan. A year ago, on one of those winter nights, utterly despondent, I suddenly began to hate this city filled with luxury and glamour. I had come here for its beauty and romance, but that beauty and romance were not meant for me. Shanghai became a source of pain for me. Here, I kept losing my job and my relationships, moving from place to place with no fixed home, living a life of constant upheaval; I felt many times that I really couldn’t stay any longer, but I still held on through gritted teeth. It’s time to pay the rent again. I received a letter from home saying that my father had suffered a stroke and was in the hospital, and money was needed. I’m just a woman who graduated from university two years ago; sometimes I go to Pudong to work as a tutor in order to earn a few hundred extra dollars, and I return home only in the middle of the night. In the afternoon, the boss asked me to redo the plan. I knew he was trying to make things difficult for me; the plan was actually done excellently, but he said that someone else could do it better than me. I understand – a guy who graduated from Tsinghua University came here yesterday. After arguing with him, I realized I had fallen for the trick—he fired me. I packed up my things and walked out holding them; only then did I realize that winter had arrived – it was so cold, the winters in Shanghai. I also have bare calves; there’s no central air conditioning, and my thin wool sweater is so thin that it gets cold as soon as the wind blows. The subway is a bit more expensive, so I chose the bus instead. I got on the bus, where everyone was packed in like sardines; I placed my things at my feet, and when I stood up, I stumbled and fell into someone’s arms—a man wearing a silver-gray jacket with a silver-gray shirt underneath. I said, “I’m sorry.” ”He looked at me, his eyes full of warmth; it was dusk outside, and lights began to turn on one by one – the world still had its warmth. Watching those lights turn on one by one, I suddenly felt a sense of sadness for no apparent reason: if it weren’t for my love for Shanghai, I could have worked as an English teacher at a high school in my hometown; if it weren’t for my desire to reach higher and farther, I could have married the person I first fell in love with, had children with them, and spent our lives together. But now, I have nothing left, just this small box at my feet and the suitcase in the rented house. Tears streamed down, salty and sour; I was so defenseless, just because of the warmth in that person’s eyes, just because of those lights that went on. He struggled to take out a tissue and handed it to me, without saying a word. Sometimes, words are a comfort to a person, while sometimes, silence is the greatest comfort. As I kept crying selfishly like that, he suddenly reached out and gently held my hand. I was stunned, but I didn’t leave; my hand was held by a stranger, held there the whole time. It had become completely dark outside, and more and more people got off the bus. We sat side by side, without anyone saying a word. He might be a stranger just like me; he might have experienced the same pains and struggles as I have. Two strangers seeking warmth in the nights of Shanghai, where a little bit of warmth can help to counteract the pressure exerted by this bustling yet indifferent city. Finally, he was about to get off. The moment he let go of my hand, he said, \"It will get better, no matter what happens.\" ” Then he left, leaving behind his back. I will never forget the back of that strange man’s figure for the rest of my life—he was actually a lame man! He walked with a limp, without looking back, and tears streamed down my face silently, overwhelming me in an instant. It was supposed to be a night to say goodbye to Shanghai, but on the contrary, that day became another beginning for me. I think I will wrap myself around this city like a climbing vine. A year later, I had my own small company. Although it was tiring and difficult, I never backed down again. I knew why: that warm night would warm all my lonely days.