The sun beat down on the massive outdoor stadium, where row upon row of job recruitment booths filled the concrete field like a makeshift bazaar of corporate desperation. Banners hung from each stall — "HIRING NOW," "ENTRY LEVEL ROLES," "JOIN OUR TEAM" — but they may as well have read "GET LOST" for all Lin Feng had experienced so far.
He was already sweating through his anime-print hoodie, the sleeves damp from his armpits, the edges of his cracked glasses fogging up. He shuffled forward with the mass of young adults, all dressed cleaner, standing straighter, speaking louder than him. His heart thumped with a familiar rhythm of quiet panic.
Just don't stutter this time. Just smile. Look normal.
After nearly two hours of standing in line, it was finally his turn.
He stepped up to the sleek booth with the blue banner: AONTECH CORPORATE GROUP. The woman behind the desk, probably in her mid-30s with a sleek black blazer and short bob haircut, glanced at him like a cashier sizing up someone trying to return a chewed-up sandwich.
She tapped her nails on the clipboard. "Name?"
"Uh, Lin Feng," he said.
"University?"
"Shanghai University."
She raised one finely plucked eyebrow. "Not 985?"
He shook his head. "No, but it's 211. I was—"
"Nope. We only take from top-tier for this cohort. 985 minimum. Next!"
Lin blinked. "Wait, I—I have the skills—"
"Next." She didn't look at him again.
Someone behind him bumped his shoulder as he was pushed aside. He stumbled, muttered an apology, and backed off before the security dude hovering nearby decided to "escort" him out.
He shuffled off toward the next booth like a kicked dog. A purple banner fluttered in the dry wind: NOVA TECH — ENTRY LEVEL OPENINGS, BACHELOR'S DEGREE ONLY.
Okay. This one. It says bachelor only. I've got that. I can do this.
The girl at this booth looked younger — maybe late twenties — with dyed ash-brown hair and overly long nails. She wore a hoodie under a company vest, chewing gum with half-lidded eyes.
"Hi," Lin said, trying to sound more confident this time. "I saw the sign. I've got a Bachelor's. I'm interested in the data analyst role."
She barely looked up. "Experience?"
"I, uh... I've studied a lot of Excel, Python, some stats courses, and I'm a quick learner—"
She blinked slowly. "I asked about experience, not your Google search history. Got three years in the field?"
"N-No... not officially. I was working on personal projects and—"
"Next."
He stood there, mouth slightly open. "I—But it says—"
"Dude," she cut him off, voice flat, "you think a company wants to train some untested guy who says he 'learns fast'? Everyone says that. Grow up."
The person behind him was already stepping forward. The girl didn't even glance back at him again. Just like that, his turn evaporated.
His ears were red. His stomach twisted with that familiar cocktail of embarrassment and buried rage. He didn't even argue. What would be the point?
He kept walking.
Another stall caught his eye — ECO-HORIZON GREEN ENERGY INITIATIVE. Looked legit. Older guy with glasses was manning the booth. There was even a little sign on the table that read: We support education for all!
That had to be a good sign, right?
He stepped up, put on a smile that already hurt his face. "Hi, I'm Lin Feng. I graduated from Shanghai University with a focus in environmental science. I was wondering—"
The older man looked at him, friendly enough. "You have a Master's?"
Lin hesitated. "No, just a Bachelor's. But I have a lot of relevant coursework and I did a field project—"
"We only take Master's and above, I'm afraid," the man said kindly. "The competition's very tight right now."
"I understand," Lin muttered.
"Best of luck out there."
He gave a small bow — the sad kind of bow he only used when giving up — and stepped aside.
That was three rejections in less than fifteen minutes.
He found an empty plastic chair near the back of the stadium, away from the foot traffic, next to a trash can that reeked of fried dough and crushed ego. He slumped into it and stared at the concrete ground.
All around him, people were handing out resumes, shaking hands, smiling wide, and pretending they hadn't also spent six months jobless and sending out CVs into a black hole. He could hear someone say "networking is everything" for the tenth time today. A guy in a suit laughed too loudly. Two girls walked past and one said, "I'm only applying here to shut my mom up."
Lin stared down at the paper folder in his lap. Ten printed resumes. Crisp. Unused.
He whispered, "What the fuck am I even doing here?"
His phone buzzed. A message from his mom:
"加油宝贝!妈妈相信你可以的!❤️"
"Keep going, baby! Mom believes in you!"
He turned the phone over, face-down on his lap.
He didn't cry. He wasn't that weak. But he didn't smile either. He just sat there, surrounded by people who had all the right degrees, all the right faces, all the right energy — and he couldn't even get past a goddamn booth without getting tossed aside like an expired coupon.
Maybe he really was just bottom of the barrel. Maybe the world was never going to give a guy like him a shot.
He then slumped against the wall and bum slowly hit the ground, then muttered a single a word:
"Tired..."
***
The subway ride back was silent except for the clacking of steel and the occasional distorted voice announcing the next stop. Lin Feng sat hunched over in the corner seat of Line 8, staring at his reflection in the dark window. The neon flicker of tunnel lights danced across his face. He didn't even bother looking at his phone. He just wanted to disappear into the rumble of the tracks.
By the time he got off and walked the eight minutes back to his parents' apartment, it was already dusk. The hallway lights in the old complex flickered like they always did, and someone was yelling through the walls — probably Auntie Zhou having another argument with her useless son.
Lin opened the door quietly, but the smell of stir-fry and soup betrayed him.
"You're home," his mom called from the kitchen, voice warm and hopeful. "Wash your hands, dinner's ready."
"Mm," he mumbled, kicking off his shoes and trudging into the dining area.
The table was already set. Steamed fish, egg tomato stir-fry, winter melon soup, and rice still warm in the cooker. His mom stood by the sink in an apron, wiping her hands. His dad was already sitting, cracking sunflower seeds into a napkin and scrolling on his phone.
Lin sat down and poured himself a bowl of soup. His stomach growled, but his appetite was knotted with shame.
"So," his mom said, sitting down across from him, "how did it go at the job fair?"
Lin hesitated. The ladle paused mid-air.
"...Fine," he lied. "It was alright. I gave out a few resumes."
"That's good!" she said, eyes lighting up. "Any follow-up? Did they say when they'd call?"
"No," he muttered. "Just gotta wait."
His dad scoffed. "Tch. Probably a waste of time."
Lin looked up. "What?"
His dad didn't look at him, still cracking seeds. "That girl from downstairs, what's her name? Meiyun. Same age as you, and she already passed her civil service exam. Working in the city government office now. Full benefits."
Lin clenched his jaw. "Yeah. Congrats to her."
"She's not even as smart as you were in high school," his dad continued, finally looking up. "But she works hard. Doesn't sit around all day watching cartoons."
"I went to the job fair," Lin said, voice low. "I've been applying."
His dad snorted. "Yeah? Doesn't mean anything if you don't get the job. You're twenty-two. Other people your age are already climbing the ladder."
Lin put his chopsticks down. "She got that job because her uncle works in the ministry. Everyone fucking knows that."
His mom flinched.
"Watch your mouth," his dad snapped.
"It's the truth!" Lin said, voice rising. "You think she passed the civil exam clean? You think they just happened to give a fresh grad a seat at a government desk without some backdoor bullshit?"
"She still put in the effort!" his dad barked. "At least she tried! What do you have? A useless degree and anime waifus?"
Lin slammed his fist on the table. The bowl rattled.
"I'm trying! I'm trying every fucking day, okay?! But every company wants three years' experience or a master's or some elite school bullshit!"
"You think life's supposed to be easy?" his dad shot back. "We didn't have shit when we came to Shanghai. I had to break my back just to feed this family. You can't even handle a job hunt without crying like a little—"
"I'm not fucking crying!" Lin shouted, standing up.
His mom stood too, holding her hands out like a traffic cop between two speeding trucks.
"Enough, both of you!" she said. "Feng, sit down. Your father is just worried."
"Worried?" Lin scoffed. "He hasn't said one supportive thing in months."
"Don't you talk to your father like that!" she said, turning to him now. "He's just... frustrated. We all are. But you lying doesn't help anything either."
"What do you want me to say? That I got humiliated by three recruiters in a row? That I waited hours just to get told I'm not '985 material'? That even the fucking 'bachelor-only' booth laughed in my face?"
Silence. His mom looked like she wanted to cry. His dad just stared at him, expression unreadable now.
"I'm not fucking Meiyun," Lin muttered, shoulders trembling. "I didn't win the nepotism lottery. I don't have rich relatives. I don't have a fucking LinkedIn full of connections. All I've got is a stupid degree and a pile of rejection emails."
"Then do something about it," his dad said coldly. "Instead of whining every time things get hard."
Lin stared at him. Then something in his chest just snapped.
"Go fuck yourself."
His mother gasped.
He grabbed his hoodie off the chair, stormed past the kitchen, yanked the door open.
"Feng!" his mom cried. "Come back! It's late!"
But he was already in the hallway, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the red good-luck charm hanging on the knob.
He didn't know where he was going. He didn't even put on socks. But right now, anywhere was better than inside that apartment.
***
The streetlights buzzed overhead like tired mosquitoes. Lin Feng's electric bike hummed quietly as it glided through the empty roads. The night wind whipped against his face, drying the sweat still clinging to his neck. He didn't wear his helmet. Didn't care.
He didn't stop for thirty straight minutes. The further he got from home, the lighter his chest felt — like the anger and shame were leaking out of him one kilometer at a time.
He eventually cut off from the main road and rolled onto a cracked pedestrian path that led under the expressway bridge. A few sleeping bags and tarps were visible in the dark corners — homeless encampments. He parked near the rusted guardrail and sat down on a cold concrete slab overlooking the river.
The water shimmered with reflections of city lights, soft and broken. Lin pulled out his phone, fingers trembling a bit from the wind. He opened the group chat with his old uni dormmates.
Group Name:🍜 Room 406 Brotherhood 🍺
He stared at the messages from three days ago. Memes. A debate about which idol had better thighs. The usual cope.
He cracked his knuckles and typed:
[LinF]: Anyone else job hunting right now?
The "typing..." indicator popped up almost instantly.
[ZhaoG]: Bro lmfao same. Spent 6 hours today and got zero callbacks.
[ChenBo]: Applied to 14 jobs this week. Heard back from one. It was a scam crypto MLM.
[Xuxu]: I already gave up lol. Doing Meituan full-time now. Got 45 deliveries today. My thighs are fucking diesel now.
Lin half-smiled at that. But it faded quick.
[LinF]: You guys ever feel like... we got played? Spent 4 years grinding school for this?
[ZhaoG]: Don't say that, man. You'll make me cry in my bunkbed.
[Xuxu]: No lies detected. Uni was just a 4-year nap before wage slavery.
[ChenBo]: My girlfriend dumped me last week btw. Said I had no future.
[LinF]: Wait what?
[ChenBo]: Yeah. Replaced me with some rich second-gen Shanghai prick. Drives a Benz and "manages investments" for his dad. Fucking clown.
[Xuxu]: Bro that's brutal.
[ZhaoG]: Girls love that generational wealth dick. Can't beat it.
[ChenBo]: I took her to meet my parents last month. Now I'm sitting in my dorm alone with 800 bucks in my account, eating instant noodles and watching her IG story while she's at a hot spring resort in Hangzhou. With him.
Lin leaned his head back against the cold pillar. A mosquito buzzed by his ear. He didn't even swat it.
[LinF]: You ever feel like we're just side characters? Like the background dudes in someone else's plot?
[ZhaoG]: Bro. Stop. You're gonna spiral.
[Xuxu]: Look man. Just saying. Delivery work is hard but it pays. I make 6–8k RMB a month when I hustle. Flexible hours. Decent tips. You get to feel the city.
[Xuxu]: Plus no one gives a fuck about your uni or resume. They just want food. That's it.
[ChenBo]: Yeah, but can you raise a family on that?
[Xuxu]: Raise a what? Lmao. Bro I can't even raise a goldfish.
[ZhaoG]: Fuck a family. I just wanna make rent and not cry in the shower.
[LinF]: You guys ever think about just... quitting? Like checking out for real?
[Xuxu]: The Matrix is real bro. But if you unplug you just die cold.
[ChenBo]: I won't lie man. I googled "cheap ways to disappear" last night. Top result was become an English teacher in Vietnam lmfao
Lin cracked an actual laugh at that, bitter and dry.
[ZhaoG]: No cap, I considered monkhood. Like actual Shaolin. Get a bald head and peace.
[Xuxu]: Honestly Lin, if you're crashing, come crash at my place in Xuhui for a few days. I got space. AC works. Just bring your own cigarettes.
[ChenBo]: Seconded. No one's doing well right now. Don't ghost us, bro.
[LinF]: I'm not gonna ghost. Just needed to yell into the void a bit.
He pocketed the phone and rubbed his face. He could feel the oils from his skin stick to his palms. He hadn't washed properly in two days. His hoodie still smelled faintly of old instant noodles and street sweat.
Above him, a car thundered across the overpass. Some late-night delivery truck heading out of the city. Lin stared at the water again.
It looked calm. But he knew that under the surface, the current was strong as fuck. It always was.
He didn't wanna die. Not really. He just didn't want to keep living like this.
Like a failure in slow motion.
He closed his eyes. Let the wind pass through him.
Somewhere, something deep inside his chest twitched. A feeling. Like static. Or pressure.
The wind shifted slightly, just enough to stir the algae-stained reeds along the river's edge. Lin Feng sat slouched against the pillar, head bowed, breathing slow. His fingers twitched against his knee like they were itching to scroll again, to doomspiral through job listings or check if Meiyun had posted another selfie.
But something broke the silence.
A faint, wet plop echoed off the stone and steel around him.
He looked up.
At first, he thought it was a reflection — some trick of the light on the water. But as he focused, his eyes widened.
Something was floating down the river. Not trash. Not a plastic bottle. It was too smooth. Too symmetrical.
It shimmered faintly — a dim, blue-silver glow rippling outward like phosphorescent oil. The object bobbed along the current, slowly spinning. A small orb, maybe the size of a grapefruit, metal and smooth but not rusted. No dirt. No algae. No markings from the real world.
Lin stood up slowly, curiosity overriding common sense.
"...The fuck is that?"
He stepped closer to the edge, phone forgotten in his hoodie pocket. The orb twirled gently as if sensing him, reflecting the moonlight in hypnotic pulses. It didn't drift like garbage. It moved with intention. It seemed to drift toward him—then stop—hovering just outside the reeds.
It was close. But not close enough.
Lin looked down at his shoes. "Fuck it," he muttered.
He sat down on the rocks, untied his laces, and peeled off his knockoff Adidas, tossing his socks on top. He rolled up his pants to the knee. The wind made him shiver slightly, but he pressed forward. The riverbank sloped gently, and the water, cold and surprisingly clean for Shanghai outskirts, soaked his legs within seconds.
"Goddamn it's cold," he hissed, teeth clenched.
With careful steps, he moved forward, ignoring the soft squelch of mud between his toes. The riverbed was uneven, slippery in parts. He almost fell once, catching himself with a curse. Water rose to his thighs, chilling his skin and making his balls shrink into his soul.
The orb remained just out of reach.
"You better be a fucking alien job offer," he growled.
Finally, after one more step, he reached out. Fingers brushed cold metal.
He grabbed it.
The moment he lifted it from the water, it stopped glowing.
It didn't feel like any tech he knew — not like a Bluetooth speaker or drone. It was dense, heavier than it looked. The surface was polished black metal with strange etched patterns — geometric symbols that seemed to shift when looked at from certain angles. No logos. No text. No seams.
Except one.
A single, circular button in the dead center.
Flat, matte white. Surrounded by a faint blue ring.
Lin stared at it for a few seconds, holding the orb in both hands. The cold had numbed his feet. His breath came out foggy. A quiet part of his brain whispered:
Leave it.
Put it back.
But another part, louder and more reckless — the one that got him addicted to hentai lore and clickbait YouTube videos titled "TOP 10 WAYS TO GET ISEKAI'D" — whispered louder:
"Press it."
He glanced back toward the bridge. No one. Not even a passing car.
"...What's the worst that could happen?" he muttered.
And he pressed it.
Click.
A low hum reverberated through the orb.
Then a hiss. Like a hydraulic vent releasing air.
Then light.
Blinding fucking blue light.
It erupted from the seams of the orb — seams that weren't visible before. They opened like blooming petals, revealing an inner core that pulsed with energy. Lines of white and electric blue traced across Lin's hands, crawling up his wrists like circuitry tattoos. He gasped and dropped the orb — but it hovered in place mid-air.
"What the fuck—what the—"
The orb spun rapidly.
FWOOOOOOM.
A shockwave of raw pressure pushed the river away from him in all directions. Water splashed and twisted violently. Fish fled. The air turned thick and static-charged. Lin staggered back, nearly slipping on the rocks, but the orb stayed perfectly centered, spinning like a sentient gyroscope.
"Okay—OKAY—holy shit—"
The hum became a high-pitched whine, vibrating through his bones.
Then came the light.
Everything turned blue.
Not just around him — but inside him. His vision exploded with color. Symbols he didn't recognize flickered across his corneas. His body locked in place. His brain short-circuited. His feet lifted an inch off the riverbed as gravity bent.
It didn't feel like teleportation. It felt like being unmade.
Like his soul was being rewritten.
"Wh—what the fuck is this—what—"
But his voice was gone.
All that remained was light.
And then—
Silence.
Q: Would you want to be isekaied?