Old Wang was a complete “snake-obsessed” person, though not in the literal sense. Born in the year of the snake, he held an almost obsessive pride in his zodiac sign. He firmly believed that people born in the year of the snake were inherently intelligent, calm, and strategic, and he had always strived to live up to this image.

In the office, Old Wang was renowned as a "human calculator." He could find discrepancies of even a few cents in any report that landed on his desk. Colleagues secretly called him "Old Snake," but they all knew it was a title tinged with respect.

Old Wang was the most unremarkable cog in the company machine. In fact, he was more like a piece of gum stuck in a corner, his presence barely noticeable. On the last workday before the Lunar New Year, while everyone else was busy snapping up holiday goods and their phones were constantly ringing, his desk was still occupied by an old desktop computer and a well-worn copy of the "Modern Chinese Dictionary."

Everyone knew that Old Wang didn't like using mobile phones. He still used an old model from ten years ago, his reasoning being, "As long as it can make calls, it's fine." But today was different. The company had suddenly issued a notice requiring all employees to attach a gold sticker to the back of their phones before coming to work tomorrow. This was to demonstrate good wishes for the New Year, and they were to uniformly scan and upload it using a new app. Apparently, this was the boss's new "good luck" ritual for the year.

Old Wang won the lottery again, this time a third prize. The winnings weren't much, but enough to buy "Star" a week's worth of beef. Star is a Bengal tiger, Old Wang's most prized possession, because she's the most "voracious" eater in the zoo. The zoo is actually pitifully small, more like Old Wang's "private backyard" built with lottery winnings than an actual zoo.

Old Wang is eighty-one years old, with a hunched back and a face full of wrinkles. Yet, he always holds a lottery ticket in his hand, with a childlike gleam in his eyes. He doesn't buy lottery tickets to get rich, but for the sake of the dozen or so animals clamoring for food. The zoo's sign is rusty, with crooked words that read: "House of Hope." What is hope? Old Wang says, hope is watching these guys jumping around every day.

After retiring, Old Li was appointed by the community as a “New Year’s Flavor Index Evaluator.” This was a trendy job, supposedly determined by a "New Year's Flavor Algorithm" developed by a well-known AI company. Every day, Old Li’s job was to walk to different families with a tablet, take a few photos, and ask a few questions.

"Did you put up Spring Festival couplets this year? How many characters?" The app on the tablet would immediately give a score.

Old Wang was assigned to be the lighting technician at the highest altitude branch venue of the Spring Festival Gala this year. Saying it's a branch venue, it's actually just a stage built on a snowy mountain peak, surrounded by howling winds and endless snow. He was wrapped in three layers of down jackets, but his hands and feet were still numb from the cold.

"Old Wang, make the lights brighter! More vibrant! More festive!" the director's hoarse voice came from the walkie-talkie. Old Wang made a face at the snowy ground on the screen, his fingers dancing on the cold control panel. He knew that the director wasn't really asking for vibrancy, but just something to fit the "Spring Festival Gala" label.

After Lao Wang retired, his life was like a lukewarm glass of plain water. It wasn't until he received a "Spring Festival Gala Cloud Participant Certificate" on Taobao that a drop of ink was added to this plain water.

The electronic certificate had an exaggerated gold background, with the large characters "Cloud Participation" in the center. Next to it was a serious-looking logo of the "CCTV Spring Festival Gala," and below it was a string of numerical codes that Lao Wang himself didn't understand. Lao Wang knew, of course, that it was just a marketing gimmick from the merchant. But looking at the glittering gold "participant certificate" on his phone screen, he felt a strange surge of excitement, as if he had truly become a part of the Spring Festival Gala.

The conference room was silent, everyone waiting for the arrival of the "zero employee." He was a legend at DeepSeek, an AI without a physical body or emotions, but capable of solving all problems. The large screen on the wall lit up, and a simple blue dot appeared in the center – the embodiment of the "zero employee."

When Lao Li received the notice, he was munching on half a cold bun. The notice was simple, two words: "Paste couplets." He didn't pay much attention to it, after all, subway stations put up Spring Festival couplets every year before the Spring Festival, it was a routine. He put down the bun, picked up his toolbox, inside lay a brand new bucket of paste and a brush. Lao Li was a veteran employee of Shenzhen Metro, he could paste couplets with his eyes closed.

But when he arrived at the warehouse and saw the pile of snow-white paper rolls, he was stunned. What kind of Spring Festival couplets were these? These were clearly rolls of white paper! He opened one roll, it was covered in dense black Song typeface, it read like an obituary, or a tasteless instruction manual. He rubbed his eyes, confirming that he wasn't mistaken, these weren't red paper with black characters, but white paper with black characters, and they were pre-printed. He found the warehouse manager, who pushed up his glasses and said in a mechanical tone: "According to the higher-ups, this year's Spring Festival couplets will all use this."

Old Wang was laid off, or rather, "optimized." He walked in the winter wind, carrying a cardboard box printed with the company logo, like a leek uprooted from the soil.

After retiring, Lao Li's favorite thing every day was to open his tablet after dinner and browse Taobao. He wasn't looking to buy anything; he just felt that the whole world seemed to be contained in that small screen, with new things happening every day, which was quite lively.

Before the Spring Festival this year, an advertisement popped up on the Taobao homepage: "Get your Spring Festival Gala Cloud Performance Certificate and become part of the hundreds of millions of viewers!" Lao Li's eyes lit up. The Spring Festival Gala was the taste of the New Year from his youth. He tremblingly clicked on it, and a cartoon character appeared on the page, wearing a festive red mandarin jacket and holding a golden certificate that read "2025 Spring Festival Gala Cloud Performance Certificate."