"The Fantastical Landing of Pop Mart" Suddenly, a "rainbow box" appeared in the atrium of the first floor of MixC Taizhou, with Pop Mart's sign shimmering faintly on the glass wall

"The Fantastical Landing of Pop Mart" A "rainbow box" suddenly appeared in the atrium of the first floor of MixC Taizhou, with Pop Mart's sign shimmering faintly on the glass wall, stopping every passing child in their tracks. As I approached, I saw a little boy in overalls pressing his nose against the display window until it flattened: "Mom, look! Those dolls are smiling at me!" The store was incredibly adorable. Mint-green walls paired with cloud-shaped lights, shelves stacked like building blocks, each cubby housing differently styled dolls. The most eye-catching was the rotating display at the center—twelve blind box dolls in ancient costumes twirled gracefully, their flowing sleeves making them seem like they'd stepped right out of a New Year's painting. "I want the one in the astronaut suit!" A little girl with pigtails tugged at her mom's sleeve, her finger leaving a tiny circle on the glass. The clerk smiled as she retrieved a blind box from the top shelf, the rustling wrapping paper revealing a silver-and-blue doll, the reflective strips on its helmet twinkling like stars. Circling the shelves, I discovered surprises in every series. Here were foodie dolls wearing panda hats, clutching bamboo tube rice with grains stuck to their faces; there were scholars and beauties in Hanfu, their scrolls bearing "ink stains"; most amusing were the "Workplace Series" in the corner—a tie-wearing rabbit holding a coffee cup, its sleepy eyes mirroring my own on Monday mornings. A line formed at the checkout, where trendy teens clutched entire boxes of blind bags, phone cameras aimed at the anti-counterfeit stickers: "This BGM is perfect for the unboxing video!" A girl in a Lolita dress carefully cradled a rare hidden edition she'd just unpacked, the lace on her skirt brushing against the doll's bow, as if two little girls were competing in cuteness. Childlike wonder never expires. A suited man squatted before the dinosaur series, gently touching the T-rex's teeth; a grandmother in reading glasses held a magnifier, examining whether the pearls in the court lady doll's hair bun could really rotate. Even the cleaning lady paused her mopping to chuckle at the glowing astronaut doll. Carrying my newly unpacked blind box toward the elevator, I heard a shriek of delight behind me—someone had drawn a limited edition. That splash of bright color stood out in the crowd like a piece of runaway candy, sweetening the entire mall.