The alarm clock was set for 6:30 am. The words “Tomorrow Work” loomed large on the phone screen, like a death sentence. Li Ming sighed, rolled over, and tried to bury his head under the covers, shutting out the cruel reality. But his brain had already begun uncontrollably replaying the last day of his vacation.

When he woke up in the morning, the air still carried a hint of the Spring Festival's aftertaste, the sound of firecrackers muffled and faint by the city's tall buildings. Li Ming decided to do something meaningful, like tidying up the mountain of clutter that had accumulated during the holiday. He opened his wardrobe, only to find that the clothes inside, as if by magic, had automatically arranged themselves neatly into "Workdays," "Weekends," and "Special Holidays." When he tried to take out an old T-shirt, an invisible force pushed him back into the "Weekend" section.

Lao Liu had worked at "Happy Interconnect" for fifteen years, transforming from a spirited college graduate into a middle-aged man with thinning hair. In those fifteen years, he witnessed the company's rise and contributed most of his sleep. Until last year, the company finally launched a brand new "2 Days Off, 4 Days On, 1 Day Off" work system. Lao Liu felt that his suffering had finally paid off.

"'2 Days Off, 4 Days On, 1 Day Off', how humane!" Lao Liu praised to everyone he met. Two consecutive days off meant he could do so much.

"Welcome to the Spring Dodging Agency, what level of spring dodging service do you require?" The receptionist's voice was unnaturally sweet, as if it had been modified by AI.

I looked around, this so-called "agency" was more like a finely decorated coffee shop, except that the walls were covered with different styles of "spring dodging kits," ranging from simple plastic raincoats to fully enclosed space capsules, with price tags that were staggering.

Li Ming was muttering to himself as he walked into the "Spring-Dodging Services Co., Ltd." that these days, anything could become a business. The company wasn't large; a withered wintersweet plant sat on the front desk, and the wall was adorned with large red characters that read "Suitable for Dodging Spring, Auspicious for Everything," giving off a festive yet eerie vibe.

The person who greeted him was a young woman with gold-rimmed glasses, whose smile was professional and formulaic. "Hello, what kind of spring-dodging service do you require?"

  "Dodging Spring, please look for [Time Capsule] Dodging Spring Office, we serve you 24/7!"

"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 alarm clock shrieked, dragging Lao Wang out of his dream. Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he glanced at the electronic calendar on his bedside table – the fifth day of the Lunar New Year. Today, he was destined not to sleep in for even a minute, as he was a deliveryman, and his task for the day was to deliver "Fortune Gods."

The cinema lights were dim, and the air was filled with the sweet, cloying scent of popcorn. I walked into Hall 3 and found a few people scattered across the seats, each staring blankly at the screen. On the screen, the familiar Ne Zha was once again wielding his Fire-Tipped Spear, roaring the line, "My fate is up to me, not the heavens."

Old Chen's greatest pleasure after retirement was not enjoying his grandchildren, but researching "dressing formulas." He firmly believed that everything in the world had its own rules, and dressing was no exception. Ever since he saw the "perfect pairing formula for skirts and shoes" on a short video platform, Old Chen had become obsessed.

The formula stated that an A-line skirt paired with white sneakers was a symbol of youth; a pleated skirt with Mary Jane shoes was the epitome of elegance. Old Chen memorized these formulas by heart and even made them into exquisite cards, which he stuck all over the walls of his house.

"Job Opening: Senior Emotion Experience Specialist, no age limit, no gender limit, no education limit, the only requirement: extreme aversion to current social rules and the ability to internalize it into daily emotional expression."

This job posting was stuck on the glass door of the Human Resources Department, the ink still wet, carrying the warmth of just being printed out. Zhou Lin stared at it for three minutes, his fingertips worn pale, but ultimately he couldn't bring himself to push open the door.