50 posts tagged with "absurd"

After Old Li retired, the only pleasure in his life was to turn on the radio at exactly 7:30 every morning to listen to the familiar "News and Newspaper Digest" segment. Since his wife passed away, this had become one of the few "rituals" in his life. But today was different. Instead of news, the radio was looping a voice prompt saying, "Congratulations, you have successfully received the 2025 Spring Festival Gala Cloud Performance Certificate! Please join billions of viewers on New Year's Eve..."

Old Li was stunned for a moment, thinking: what the heck is this? He clearly hadn't clicked on any "Cloud Performance Certificate" on Taobao. Are scammers so up-to-date these days? He opened his phone and found a digital voucher on the Taobao app, stating "2025 Spring Festival Gala Cloud Performance Certificate," also printed with his name and ID number. Old Li didn't know whether to laugh or cry. This must be some marketing gimmick by a merchant, treating an old man like him as a sucker.

"Refill! Thank you."

Li Mingyang, holding his empty glass, called out mechanically to the robot bartender behind the counter. His voice was slightly hoarse, yet it maintained an almost excited tone.

After retiring, Old Wang's only joy was setting off fireworks during the New Year. This year, the policy loosened, with "many places changing from bans to limits," allowing the lighting of fireworks. Old Wang was as happy as a child, and he asked someone to bring him several boxes of "sky rockets" from the countryside. He neatly stacked the fireworks in the living room, touching them several times a day, as if caressing his precious treasures.

On New Year's Eve, Old Wang put on a brand-new Tang suit and excitedly rushed downstairs, ready to put on a show. In the open space downstairs, some people were already setting off fireworks here and there. Some lit "star clusters," and some lit "little bees," the crackling sounds sporadic, but it always felt like something was missing. Old Wang took out a "sky rocket," carefully placed it on the ground, and lit the fuse. With a "whoosh," the firework shot straight into the sky, exploding with a "bang," the colorful light illuminating the night sky and the wrinkles on Old Wang's face.

Hugo was a slightly overweight middle-aged man working in an administrative role in the French Navy. His main tasks each day were organizing files and watering the commander’s potted plants. His favorite thing was to open his step-counting app during lunch breaks to see how many steps he had taken that day. He firmly believed that even in the office, one should maintain a healthy lifestyle.

Old Pierre was an optimist, or at least he seemed to be. On the French Navy's nuclear submarine "Dawn," he was responsible for cleaning the toilets. It wasn't a glamorous job, but Old Pierre always hummed a little tune as he scrubbed the toilets until they gleamed, as if he were completing a work of art. His optimism was like a thin film, enveloping the damp air inside this steel behemoth.

Every day, he would open his pedometer app. A free app called "Vitality Life" recorded his steps and calories burned. This app did more than it claimed. It recorded location, altitude, and movement trajectory. Inside the submarine, Pierre's "movement trajectory" looked comical; he traversed the narrow corridors back and forth like a lost crab.

Old Wang had worked at the "Color Harmony Promotion Center" for fifteen years. His workstation, much like himself, was always in a state of gray. The center's main responsibility was to "bleach" or "deepen" the public's perception of colors based on social sentiment reports. To put it bluntly, it was about using various methods to make people "see" the colors they wanted them to see.

Recently, the center's operations had been unusually busy. Old Wang had to process thousands of "color adjustment requests" every day. Today, his task was to change the public's impression of "gray" from "depressing" and "mediocre" to "serene" and "noble."

Old Wang woke up from a coma, his mind feeling like freshly mixed cement, a complete mush. He remembered he was a firefighter, had rushed into a fire to save a child, and then, he couldn't remember anything else. The doctor said he suffered a concussion, his intellect had regressed to elementary school level. Fortunately, through rehabilitation, he had now recovered to high school level.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a row of straight legs, all wearing black suit pants, reflecting the bright office lights. I, Li Ming, at 172 centimeters, barely squeezed into this forest where the average height was 180 centimeters.

This wasn't a modeling agency, but our company's routine morning meeting. Since the company introduced the "Project Excellent Height," all new male employees were required to undergo "height-increasing surgery." I hesitated at the time; after all, "breaking bones" sounded chilling. But HR's smile was gentle yet firm, "Mr. Li, this is not only for your career but also for the overall image of the company. We are pursuing the perfect height."

Old man Li was carrying a bucket of freshly fried fritters, walking slowly through the alley. On both sides of the alley, lanterns were hung, and the red glow illuminated the smiling faces of every household. Today was Lunar New Year's Eve, and the air was filled with the scent of the New Year.

But this year's festive atmosphere seemed a little different.

Old Wang was a seasoned deliveryman at SF Express, shuttling through the city's concrete jungle every day, delivering all sorts of packages. Today, he had a special package in his hands. The recipient column read "Unknown," and the sender column read "Deceased Old Man Wang." The package was heavy, wrapped in thick kraft paper, and felt somewhat like a brick.