In Zhang Qiang's third month at the company, he was transferred to the "Stellar Observation Department." He initially thought it involved astronomical observation, but on his first day, he was led into an airtight room. In the center of the room was a giant screen displaying mobile phone screenshots, each increasingly red.

“Your task is simple, count the number of stars in each screenshot,” said Department Head Li, handing him a counter with a deadpan expression, as if announcing that lunch would be steamed buns.

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.

Old Wang has worked at "Fresh Express" for five years, his daily job is to stare at piles of cherries in a daze. He is responsible for "preservation," a position that sounds grand but is actually extremely tedious. His daily task is to unload batches of freshly arrived cherries from refrigerated trucks, place them in special cold storage, and then mechanically record their preservation data.

Old Pi is the "ferryman" of this mountainous area, except that he ferries not people, but wildfires.

This job sounds mysterious, but it's actually very simple. It involves carrying a huge flamethrower and, when a wildfire spreads, spraying fire in a specific direction to divert the fire.

Wang Defa has been feeling a bit uneasy lately. It's not because of the new intern who keeps flirting with him, but because of the company's bizarre "Happiness Upgrade" program.

What they call "Happiness Upgrade" is actually forcing everyone to change their phones. The company has made a bulk purchase of new phones from a certain domestic brand, claiming that "technology empowers and improves employee happiness." Old phones are to be traded in, with the amount depending on the phone's condition and your relationship with your direct supervisor. Of course, the official explanation is "big data assessment."

Old Wang looked at the four bright red characters "Approved" on the computer screen and breathed a long sigh of relief. He had been working on these two words, “resignation,” for three whole weeks, filling out twenty-six forms and stamping thirty-seven seals. The hardships he'd endured could easily fill a book titled "The Bloody Tears of Resignation."

Old Wang had worked at the courier station for five years and had seen all sorts of strange packages. But today's delivery truly opened his eyes. Two boxes of yogurt were sent by a girl named "Xiao Fang" to her online friend, "A Qiang." This was normal enough, but the "special packaging" sent shivers down his spine.

The packages were filled with dense layers of foam, wrapped like dumplings, with hand-written labels saying “Handle with Care” and “Fragile.” But what struck him as odd was that the shipping fee was a staggering 12,500 yuan.

Old Li has been having the same dream lately. In his dream, he stands in front of a massive iron gate, with countless drug names engraved on it, arranged like tombstones. In his hand, he holds a prescription for an imported drug that his son, who has a rare disease, urgently needs. The iron gate slowly opens, revealing a row of empty shelves with only a few white labels that read "Domestic Substitute." Old Li wants to rush in, but he's held back by an invisible force.

Old Wang was the neighborhood's renowned "Mr. Fix-It." Appliance repairs, plumbing unblocking – there was nothing he couldn't handle. Today, he took on a new job. Mrs. Li, his neighbor, had a broken smart scale. The display only showed a red dot, like an eye, staring eerily.

Mrs. Li complained, “This thing, they said it was so smart and accurate when I bought it. After only two years, it’s just a decoration. It's a real ghost!” Old Wang chuckled in response, he loved these kinds of challenges.

The red cherries, like agates, were crammed into the entire refrigerated truck. Old Wang drove carefully; the cherries were freshly picked from the port by his boss. Each crate was worth several thousand, and if they arrived late, their value would drop. He glanced in the rearview mirror, a red fire truck flashing its lights and emitting piercing sirens, closely tailing him.

Old Wang frowned, muttering, "Who's on fire again? What bad luck." He looked left and right, the road was narrow and full of cars, making it difficult to yield. Besides, who knows if some "drunk" was causing trouble again? There were news reports about people deliberately honking to scare others. Old Wang decided to wait a bit; what if it wasn't real?