Flu Season, A Limited Edition Life

"Your 'flu recovery time' has been updated: 47 hours and 12 minutes."

The cold electronic voice from the smart bracelet on his wrist broke Li Ming's lunch break. He rubbed his throbbing temples and reconfirmed the bright red countdown numbers on the screen. Since being diagnosed with influenza A three days ago, everyone has been forced to wear this bracelet called the "Life Timer".

The company's newly launched "flu care" policy is, at its core, so cold—your recovery time is your "remaining life value." The shorter the recovery time, the better your physical fitness, the higher your work efficiency, and the greater your contribution to the company. Conversely, it's a "waste of resources."

Li Ming didn't understand why a flu could divide people so distinctly. He looked at the colleagues around him. Some were staring at their bracelets with furrowed brows, as if they contained their future; others were excited, eager to rush back to their workstations and prove themselves in the shortest possible time.

"Li Ming, your time is a bit long." Section Chief Wang walked over and patted him on the shoulder with a fake smile. "Hurry up, don't drag us down."

Li Ming forced out a smile that looked more like a cry. Of course he wanted to get better quickly, but what could he do? He took his medicine on time every day, drank water obediently, and even only dared to eat light white porridge for lunch. But the countdown was like an unreasonable creditor, nibbling away at his time second by second.

In order to shorten his recovery time as much as possible, he started trying all sorts of folk remedies. Some people said drinking more hot water was helpful, so he drank eight cups a day until his stomach felt like it was about to explode; others said that more sleep could improve immunity, so he hid in the bathroom and took secret ten-minute naps when no one was watching; still others said that it was important to stay cheerful, so he forced himself to smile foolishly at the computer screen until the corners of his mouth cramped.

However, all these efforts seemed to be in vain. He watched the numbers on the bracelet decrease little by little, and anxiety grew like weeds in his heart. He began to wonder if he would ever really recover from this flu? Or was this just a trap set by the company to eliminate employees?

One day, he overheard his colleague Xiao Liu from the next workstation secretly talking on the phone: "Dad, my time is almost up. The company said they are going to lay off people... I really can't take it anymore."

Li Ming's heart sank. He subconsciously glanced at his own bracelet; only 18 hours and 34 minutes remained.

He suddenly understood that this was not just a flu, but a war about "time."

During lunch break, Li Ming slipped into the smoking area on the top floor of the company. This place was usually deserted, except for a few old smokers who would come here to puff away.

He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and in the swirling smoke, he suddenly saw the fire hydrant on the wall. The bright red color was particularly striking in the hazy smoke.

A bizarre thought suddenly popped into his head.

He looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then suddenly pulled open the fire hydrant. A stream of water instantly gushed out, forming a small waterfall in the corridor.

The alarm blared, and the entire company was instantly thrown into chaos. People dropped their work, screaming as they ran in all directions. Li Ming, mixed in with the crowd, had a strange smile on his face.

When the company leaders rushed out in a rage, Li Ming had already returned to his workstation. On his wrist, that glaring countdown number had changed to – "Infinite".

It turned out that at the same time the fire alarm was activated, the intelligent system went haywire, and the time on all the bracelets was reset, becoming infinite. Everyone's life returned to its "normal" track, without countdowns, without competition, without panic.

Li Ming suddenly felt exhausted. He turned off his computer, packed his things, and left the company.

He stood on the deserted street, looking up at the gloomy sky, and suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of relief. He remembered the company's "flu care" poster, with its incredibly ironic slogan—"We care about the life and health of every employee."

The corners of his mouth slightly curled upward. He knew that he had won this limited edition game of life. He was free.