In the cubicles, the sound of keyboard clicks resembled the low hum of insects, interspersed with the subtle clicks of mice. At exactly noon, the digital clock on the screen turned red, signaling the start of “digital lunch” time.
Old Wang received a notice to collect this year's year-end bonus. He rubbed his hands, red with cold, thinking that the company had done well this year and the boss might be feeling generous.
In the office, besides Old Wang, there were nine other colleagues. They looked at each other, guessing the amount of their respective bonuses. The manager walked in with a beaming smile, carrying a huge black plastic bag in his hand.
Old Chen had been in the "Transparent Gift" project team for three months. His daily work was to stare at the screen, monitoring the "transparent gifts" sent by WeChat users - a type of virtual gift, where the recipient could see the gift but not touch it or convert it into real money.
Project supervisor Old Wang, a balding middle-aged man in his forties, would send out a "Today's Transparent Gift Sending Guide" in the group chat every morning, teaching everyone how to cleverly use transparent gifts to please clients and superiors. Old Chen felt this guide was like a carefully written palace intrigue manual, except the battlefield had moved from the harem to the office.
On the wall hung a faded world map, with several cities circled in thick red marker, like the strongholds of some secret operation. Below the map, a desk was piled high with files, and several old computers hummed. This was the “Underground Divorce Agency”, located in the deepest part of the city.
Dong, dong, dong, dong, dong, dong.
It's not the beating of a heart, but the mechanical vibration from a mobile app. Every morning at seven o'clock, this sound rings out precisely, reminding Zhou Xiaomei that a new day has begun.
Old Li was responsible for cleaning the ornamental pond at Guanyin Bridge. These past few days, he was swamped. The koi carp in the pond, originally symbols of good fortune, had somehow collectively turned belly-up. Over thirty woven bags were filled with their cold corpses, piled up in a corner by the bridge like swollen gray tumors.
Old Li was an honest man who had been in this line of work for almost twenty years, and had seen his fair share of "accidents." He habitually sighed, feeling that these fish had truly had bad luck. Guanyin Bridge was known as a feng shui hotspot, but these koi carp didn't seem to appreciate it; even in death, they caused a commotion here.
Old Huang, with today's "Code of Conduct for Police Dogs" in his mouth, squinted his eyes as if studying some profound philosophy. He was a veteran police dog, but recently he had been listless, even too lazy to chase a stray cat. This gave the police dog squad leader a headache. After all, police dogs also need to clock in and have achievements to show for it.
Old Wang was in the backstage area of Weibo Night, picking his teeth with a toothpick. All around him were glamorous celebrities, each one like a mannequin in a shop window, plastered with perfect smiles, awaiting their turn on the red carpet. He, Old Wang, was the odd one out in this dazzling scene. He was neither a celebrity nor a staff member; he was just a "vibe setter."
夜很静，警犬黑子伏在冰凉的地板上，爪子一下一下地敲击着键盘，屏幕的光映在他疲惫的脸上。他刚被通报批评，原因是他上班“精神不佳”。
Zhang Qiang was the 9.6 millionth person to squeeze into the live stream. He stared at the scrolling IDs on the screen, his heart pounding. It was Huang Zitao's live stream, and the prize was said to be the latest limited-edition interstellar spaceship model. Zhang Qiang had upgraded his home WIFI to 10G overnight for this lottery, and his fingers were almost numb from tapping.