A few days ago, I passed by the Seven Days Inn next to the school and found that the sign had been taken down, replaced by a study room.

I used to work at the front desk of this hotel for half a year. That was in 2014, when booking hourly rooms on weekends was a race.
All the guests were couples from nearby universities, showing their ID cards and student IDs together. Some girls were on the phone telling their roommates that they would help me check in at night.
Last year, this place went out of business. Not because of inspections, but because no one came.
I checked, and this year, the national hotel vacancy rate exceeded 11%, and revenue per room dropped nearly 10%.
The group of college students who used to rush to book hourly rooms are now in their early thirties.
They’re not broke; they just don’t want to open rooms.
Recently, I saw a survey that said among married people, nearly 15% of men born after 95 had no sex for the entire past year, almost double that of their parents’ generation.
The higher the education level, the lower the frequency.
Less than 30% of male graduate students can still have sex more than once a week.
I sent a screenshot of that survey result to my college roommate.
It took him a long time to reply with just six words: "Too tired, don’t want to anymore."
He works at a big company, leaving home at 7 a.m. and getting back at 11 p.m.
He still has 25 years left on his mortgage.
His wife is also our classmate, now sleeping in the bedroom, while he sleeps in the study.
He told me he forgot the last time they did it, just felt the bed was too soft and he couldn’t sleep well.
The building next to the study is the Seven Days Inn where we used to queue up.
Now, it’s lit with cold study room lights, visible through a layer of curtains, students bent over their papers.
He occasionally has insomnia, standing at the window for a while, and says that during the last queue for a room, she was still memorizing English words.
He laughs that she even brought her vocabulary book when they went to rent a room.
Later, they never rented a room again.
He wrote a note in his phone’s memo: "Used to queue for rooms, now queue for dawn."
He put his phone back on the bedside table and continued to attend meetings the next morning.
Students are studying next door in the study.
That former Seven Days Inn, once a queue spot, now has incandescent lights on, with a countdown to exams hanging under the window where she used to memorize words.
He’s never been back to that Seven Days Inn, but sometimes late at night, after working overtime, he drives past the apartment complex where they used to rent.
He stops across the street, seeing that window still covered with UV-protection film, just like seven years ago, with the light inside replaced long ago.