Li Ming sat at his workstation, staring at the blinking cursor on the screen, his eyelids heavy as lead. He had been working continuously for 28 hours and 55 minutes, just 5 minutes short of the record on the "honor roll."
Lao Li sat at the window for thirty years, stamping seals for thirty years. His life was like those red ink pads: bright, repetitive, and indispensable. That is, until an "AI civil servant" arrived at the bureau.
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!"
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 Liu's alarm clock is always five minutes faster than others. It's not that he deliberately set it that way, it's just that it's fast on its own. This problem has been with him for several years, he can't fix it, and he's too lazy to fix it anyway. Today is the third day of the Lunar New Year, the day for visiting relatives. When Old Liu's family was ready to leave, he habitually glanced at his watch, it was exactly ten o'clock in the morning.
"Let's go, it's already this late," his wife urged. Old Liu thought, it's almost ten o'clock, if they don't hurry, they'll miss the lunch at Old Li's place.
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.
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.
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.
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.