Damn. During the long holiday, I was trapped inside the exit gate.

I managed to get a high-speed train ticket, passed the nucleic acid test, kept my green code, and endured three hours standing at the train carriage connection. But when I reached my home door, the gate wouldn't open no matter what.
I took my provincial city transportation card and recharged five hundred yuan into it. I thought that thing was valid nationwide. I thought so. When I swiped at the high-speed rail station in the provincial city, the gate still gave me a green light, and the "beep" was crisp like a magpie's call. I thought it was welcoming me home, but now it seems more like a farewell.
At the newly built high-speed rail station in my hometown county, the gate at the exit seemed to hold a grudge against me. I put my card on the reader—"Beep! Invalid card." Swipe again—"Beep! Invalid card." Dozens of people behind me, dragging their luggage and holding their children, stared at me. An old man directly shouted: "Are you going out or not, damn it?"
The staff came over and looked at my card. I’ve seen that kind of look before—back when I handed in a blank answer for the last math question on my college entrance exam, and the invigilator glanced at my paper with that same expression. He said this is a provincial city card, and it can’t be used across regions. The system thinks I’m fare evading and has locked it.
He pointed to the ticket reissue window in the distance. The line there was two and a half loops around, even more crowded than on the train just now. The sign above that window was a piece of A4 paper, written in Song font, bold, blood-red, like a horror movie poster.
I waited forty minutes inside, personally pressed my fingerprint on the paper ticket reissue slip, and only then did the gate finally let me out. That beep was especially loud, and the whole corridor was watching me. My wife said I looked like I had just been released from prison when I stepped out of the gate.
That five hundred yuan is still locked inside the card. I can’t withdraw it; I have to take the high-speed train back specifically to get a refund. The ticket money is enough for three more KFC meals.
I stuck that card on the fridge. Next to it, I put a note that said: From now on, when taking the train, check whether it crosses regions first.
Don’t be like me—three hours on the train, forty minutes to exit.