Old Wang sat in his twenty-seventh-floor office at Jinsheng Group, staring blankly at the K-line chart on his computer screen. The price of gold had risen again, like a mad, runaway horse, galloping far ahead. He tapped on the keyboard, trying to turn these frantic numbers into a decent report, but the lines, in his eyes, were like golden fetters around his neck, tightening more and more.
Old Wang was randomly assigned to the dumpling-making session at the annual party. He rubbed his hands, looking at the various colored dumpling fillings in front of him, feeling like an elementary school student attending a handicraft class. The theme of the annual party was "Technology Empowerment," and even making dumplings had to be tech-savvy—each filling was associated with a QR code, and you had to scan the code to know what the filling was.
Old Wang picked up a ball of meat filling with a small QR code attached. He took out his phone, aimed it at the QR code, and with a "beep," a word popped up on the screen: "A17 Data Stream."
Lao Wang, carrying two bags of snacks, struggled through the crowded cinema. It was the first day of the Lunar New Year, and tickets for the Spring Festival movie season were incredibly hard to come by. He had managed to snag tickets two weeks in advance, and today he could finally enjoy the festivities with his wife.
Old Wang sat at his workstation, staring blankly at the blurry screenshot on his computer screen. In the screenshot, a robot on the Spring Festival Gala stage was wearing a flesh-colored pair of tight pants, looking utterly ridiculous under the spotlight.
“Tell me,” Old Wang asked his colleague, Xiao Li, who was sitting next to him, “whose idea was this pair of pants, anyway?”
Old Wang opened a lotus root cake shop in an urban village. It was small, just a fryer and two tables. His lotus root cakes were crispy and delicious, famous far and wide. Every evening, a long queue formed outside the shop, filled with the warmth of everyday life.
“蛇年春晚，一切蛇么都好！”这是总导演在动员大会上喊出的口号。老王作为道具组的小组长，被这口号震得虎躯一震。这蛇年，真是处处都透着一股子邪性。
Li Ming, carrying his small red plastic stool, looked out of place in the crowded cinema ticket gate. The people around him were either carrying small stools printed with cartoon characters, holding folding chairs, or even lugging wooden benches from home. This was a new project launched by the "Starlight Cinema" in the small county – no-seat movie viewing.
He originally thought it was just a gimmick, but he didn't expect that people actually bought these tickets. The Spring Festival movies were so popular that tickets were hard to come by. Those with seats were in "emperor positions," while those without became "stool spectators." Li Ming originally grabbed a ticket with a seat, but the system crashed. After the refund, he could only helplessly choose the no-seat ticket, which was half the price.
Old Jack was a mechanic in the Air Force before he retired. In his lifetime, he had seen all kinds of fighter jets, and he was used to their deafening roar. But recently, something happened that made him feel a little strange.
A few days ago, the most advanced US military fighter jet crashed during a training mission. This wasn't anything new, because plane crashes happened from time to time. But the strange thing was that the Air Force headquarters had issued a ban, prohibiting all military personnel and their families from watching and spreading any videos about the crash.
Old Li tightened his thermal suit. The HUD screen on his helmet displayed the "Deep Space Express" logo and the package number he was delivering today: DS-742. The cold wind blew across the few sparse whiskers he had recently grown on his face, bringing a stinging sensation. He muttered, "This damn weather, when will it ever end?"
He was in a city that had been transformed beyond recognition by technology. Towering metal buildings resembled cold, monstrous beasts, and the air was filled with a faint odor of disinfectant. There were no cars on the ground, only automatic skateboards and aerial tracks, while Old Li was riding an old electric scooter, which looked out of place.
Old Wang was a typical "corporate slave," spinning like a top in his cubicle every day. His biggest dream was to go on an impromptu trip, even if it was just to the neighboring county, it would be better than facing the computer screen every day.
One day, as usual, Old Wang was scrolling through his phone when a pop-up appeared: "Fliggy discount airfare, global flights from 100 yuan!" He rubbed his eyes, thinking he had seen it wrong.