Old Li looked at the dark, sooty thing in front of him and felt that life was indeed full of black humor. This thing, said to be a seed that had "studied abroad" on a space station, was treated like a treasure by the research institute and even escorted to their village by a special envoy. The task given from above was also very clear: he was to take good care of this "cosmic visitor" and strive to make it bloom and bear fruit on its native soil.
PeachHeiHei, an ordinary office worker, lives a life as precise as a machine, going to and from work, eating, sleeping, and scrolling through his phone. Recently, he noticed frequent out-of-place login notifications on his account. Initially, he thought his password had been leaked, changed his password, and bound his phone number for verification, but the issue persisted.
A-Qiang looked in the mirror, once again confirming the shape of his face. It was truly a perfect isosceles trapezoid, expanding outwards from his forehead down to the sharp right angle of his chin. He thought, he had completely said goodbye to the word “beauty” for the rest of his life.
Liu Qiang opened his computer, and the words "Welcome to Myawaddy" popped up on the screen. It was his first day at his new company, and he was a little excited. He had previously worked 996 at an internet company, working himself to the bone with a low salary, but this time he finally made a successful job switch. The new company not only offered double the pay but also had overseas work opportunities, which was a dream come true.
"Rules and regulations, please understand." Security guard Lao Wang repeated this phrase expressionlessly, like a robot with a preset program. In his hand was the takeout—a small package of antipyretic medicine, ordered by the guests in room 308 of the hotel.
Li Qiang, a deliveryman struggling on the edge of the city, has recently become the "Mr. Mi" of his community. Not because his rice bin is full, but because he always says "mi" instead of "yuan" when he speaks. At first, people laughed at his accent, but later they discovered that the unit displayed on his phone when making payments had also become "mi." Unable to explain it, he simply went along with it, jokingly calling himself a "rice farmer in the digital age."
"Today, it's the 37th time." Old Wang muttered to the register, drawing a circle around the name "Xingxing" with his pen.
The atmosphere in the exam room was like air had been sucked out, dull and oppressive. Each examinee was as if muted, with only the scratching of pen nibs on paper, occasionally mixed with suppressed coughs. I am Li Ming, a veteran "exam-taker" who views the National Civil Service Exam as a routine annual event, as familiar as attending a wedding.
The old server room hummed, the sound of the fans like a dying beast gasping for breath. The mottled paint on the walls bore witness to countless silent days and nights. Uncle Li, in his drab work uniform, held a portable hard drive in his hands as if it were a precious treasure.
Today was "Forgetting Day."
"My cat food is gone again!" Old Wang, leaning on his crutch, his voice piercing the evening quiet. He stared at the surveillance screen in front of him, specially installed to protect his "treasure" - an orange cat named "Mimi."
The screen showed an empty corridor, only the dim yellow light shining quietly. This was the third time this month, a whole large bag of cat food, vanishing without a trace. Old Wang suspected someone was stealing it. He had more than once waited in ambush in the corridor, but each time he came up empty.