Byte Park

The elevator doors opened, and a rich aroma of food rushed out, along with an even stronger sense of "struggle." Zhang Qiang took a deep breath, as if inhaling energy, and then stepped into ByteDance's "park." Here, "park" refers to the company's free three meals, reportedly costing up to 100 yuan per meal.

Zhang Qiang had only been working for three months, and the most anticipated time of his day was mealtime. It wasn't just because it was free, but also because the food here seemed to possess some kind of magic, capable of making everyone mechanical and efficient. During lunchtime, the long lines resembled a moving river, everyone with their heads down, silently sliding towards the food pick-up area. There was no conversation, only the light sounds of plates colliding and the subtle noises of chewing. Everyone ate quickly, as if completing an important task.

Initially, Zhang Qiang found this quiet and efficient atmosphere cool, like entering a precision machine made of code. He was even somewhat proud to be a cog in this machine. But gradually, he began to feel a little off.

One day, Zhang Qiang noticed that his colleague Wang Li was eating particularly slowly at lunch. She was poking at the broccoli on her plate with her chopsticks, her eyes vacant. He leaned over and asked, "What's wrong?" Wang Li looked up, her eyes a little dazed, and said softly, "I think I've lost my sense of taste."

Zhang Qiang thought Wang Li was just joking, but in the following days, he found that more and more people were losing interest in food. Everyone was just mechanically stuffing food into their mouths, then hurrying back to their workstations to continue typing on keyboards. Even he himself began to feel numb to the delicacies that had once made his mouth water.

The company posted a notice saying that they would be conducting a "food taste experience upgrade" and inviting all employees to participate in the "Byte on the Tip of the Tongue" survey. Zhang Qiang also filled one out, but in the "expectations for food" column, he couldn't write anything. He couldn't think of any expectations he had for food, as if the purpose of food was no longer to satisfy hunger, but to provide energy for efficient work.

One day, the company organized a "food sharing event," where each employee had to share a favorite food. Zhang Qiang prepared a "braised pork." He cut the meat into neat pieces and placed them on an elegant plate, as if displaying a work of art. But at the sharing event, he found that everyone was sharing the same kind of food: standardized, indistinguishable dishes like braised pork, sweet and sour ribs, kung pao chicken... Each dish was neatly arranged, without any individuality.

A new intern asked in confusion, "Aren't these the dishes we can eat every day? Why are we sharing them?"

The whole room fell silent, and everyone stared at the intern as if looking at an alien.

Zhang Qiang suddenly felt that this free "park" was like a carefully designed cage. They were enjoying high-quality food, but they had lost their desire for food, even their passion for life. Everyone was like a robot controlled by data, efficient, but empty.

One night, Zhang Qiang worked overtime until late at night, and he suddenly wanted a bowl of instant noodles from home. He rummaged through the company's refrigerator but couldn't find a single pack. Here, there were only carefully prepared nutritional meals, no instant food, and definitely no "unhealthy" food.

He walked out of the company and bought a pack of old altar pickled cabbage beef noodles at a roadside convenience store. He tore open the packaging, and a strong aroma wafted out as he added hot water. He devoured it, tears almost falling. He felt that this was the taste of food, this was the taste of life.

That night, Zhang Qiang submitted his resignation. The HR person looked confused and asked him, "Why? We offer such good benefits, free three meals, 100 yuan standard, which is what many people dream of!"

Zhang Qiang did not answer, just said lightly, "Because I have regained my sense of taste."

The next day, Zhang Qiang packed his things and left. He didn't go to the cafeteria for the final free lunch, but went to the convenience store downstairs and bought another pack of old altar pickled cabbage beef noodles. After he finished eating, he noticed that the convenience store owner was staring at him, with a complex emotion he couldn't understand in his eyes. As he was about to pay, the owner said, "No need, young man, you have shown me hope."

Zhang Qiang was stunned and hadn't reacted yet when the owner handed him another pack of instant noodles. "Here, another pack, my treat."

Zhang Qiang took the noodles, his heart filled with an indescribable feeling. He suddenly remembered Wang Li's words, "I think I've lost my sense of taste." He thought, maybe he had lost his sense of taste too, he just hadn't realized it yet.