Sighing at the Bridge of Helplessness: If I Have to Work in the Next Life Too, Why Was I Born?

King Yama, sweating profusely, thought to himself, 'This batch of ghosts is so troublesome. They can't even queue up without emitting so much resentment.' The Meng Po beside him chuckled, covering her mouth. After ladling soup for thousands of years, she had seen it all. This wasn't the sorrow of parting from loved ones, but the most profound protest of the working class against capitalism. Look at that long line on the Bridge of Helplessness, does it look familiar? It's exactly like the MRT Bannan Line at 8 AM on a Monday morning. Look at that long line on the Bridge of Helplessness, does this scene look familiar? It's precisely the rush hour at Shinjuku Station in Tokyo, Japan. Why is everyone sighing while queuing? Because their minds are already rehearsing the next life: drinking Meng Po's soup is like a forced computer format, thinking you can start anew, only to find the first pop-up window after reinstallation is 'You have a new job interview invitation from the recruitment agency.' This brings up a soul-searching question: Since I'll still be a corporate slave in the next life, why am I dying here now? Am I just queuing to sigh? This isn't reincarnation, it's 'logging in again on a different server,' and maybe in the next life, technology will be more advanced, even the right to laze in bed at home King Yama truly doesn't understand the suffering of mortals. Everyone sighs because they know drinking this soup isn't liberation, but signing another decades-long contract of servitude. But what can be done? The line has already formed this far; you have to drink it with gritted teeth. Shedding tears, you'll ask Meng Po for half-sugar with no ice, making a ridiculously humble wish: 'Please, in my next life, let me be a pampered cat that someone takes care of. No clocking in, just be cute every day.' After drinking this soup, you'll be a hero in the next life, or perhaps, a good corporate slave.