In the autumn of Beiping, the sky was so high, so blue. Sunlight spilled onto the grey roof tiles, warm and lazy, carrying a hint of languor. But inside Lao Liu's heart, it felt like a lead weight was pressing down, heavy, not relaxed at all.
My ass, no, my entire existence, is welded to this supposedly ergonomic chair. Dante described Hell, but he clearly never saw upstairs and downstairs neighbors waging class warfare. If he had, he would've created a special circle of torment just for the 7th and 8th floors, and I, Old Wang on the 9th, would be the innocent prisoner with a millstone around my neck, eternally damned. This war has been going on for three years, not much shorter than the damn Anti-Japanese War, but far more intense, only the battlefield is the floor slab, and the weapons have changed from planes and cannons to hammers, high heels, and a high-tech gadget called a "ceiling shaker."
Old Wang is a little annoyed lately.
Wang Defa stomped his feet in front of the bank, puffing out white breath. On the eighth day of the Lunar New Year, while others were busy visiting relatives and friends, he was thinking about depositing his son Maodou's few thousand yuan of Lunar New Year money into the bank. It wasn't that he loved money so much, but Maodou kept clamoring to buy game skins. He thought about locking it up in the bank first to prevent the kid from squandering it.
But there was a long queue in front of the bank's ATMs. When it was finally his turn, he inserted the card, and the screen glaringly displayed: "Storage amount has reached the limit, service suspended."
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.
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?"
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 Wang squeezed into the crowd, like a crumpled sugarcane husk. He was wearing his faded costume, embroidered with dragon and phoenix patterns that looked particularly comical under the sunlight. Today was the opening ceremony for "The Gods 3," and he was still playing "Extra A." Old Wang was no stranger to this role; he had been "Extra A" for ten years, a "living fossil of Hengdian," as he put it.
Today's opening ceremony was particularly lively, with the lead actor Yu Shi in attendance. Old Wang remembered this young man vividly; he had been present at the "fairness" incident that had caused such a stir a few days ago. Yu Shi's fans had made a huge fuss online, protesting the unfair treatment by the production crew. Old Wang had thought at the time that these young people were truly outspoken, unlike the older folks who had had their edges worn smooth and were too lazy to even complain.
Old Wang was forced to kowtow. He didn't want to, being over fifty, his knees as hard as rocks. Kneeling on the cold bluestone was a form of torture. But the entire village, no, the entire county, seemed to be engaged in a large-scale "kowtowing performance art."
The line stretched from the village entrance to the village end, and from the village end extending to the main road of the county town, seemingly endless. People were dressed in their new festive clothes, but their faces carried a strange numbness. Old Wang recognized a few familiar faces; their eyes were empty, as if controlled by some invisible force. The line moved slowly, each step accompanied by a dull "thud," the sound of heads hitting the ground, like some ancient sacrificial ritual.
“Hey folks, today we're bringing you our latest smart robotic vacuum cleaner. This robot can not only automatically avoid obstacles, but also…” Li Ming said to his phone screen, forcing a professional smile. Behind him was a blue backdrop with the company logo.