Xiaoya's fingertips were adorned with ten silver snakes, their scales reflecting an ominous light under the lamplight. This was not some avant-garde fashion statement, but a carefully crafted "snake-year fortune-attracting manicure" she had spent a full two thousand yuan on. In this era where everyone believes in metaphysics, everyone in the office had become a Feng Shui master, and Xiaoya was no exception. She felt that these cold, gleaming silver snakes would surely bring her a wealth of fortune, or at the very least, stop her proposals from being utterly trashed by her supervisor.

Old Li had been working at the Shenzhen Metro for fifteen years. He couldn't remember how many spring couplets he had put up, but this year was definitely the most unusual. In previous years, they were all red with gold characters, festive and joyous. This year, however, a batch of white couplets with black characters had appeared out of nowhere, plastered all over every corner of the station, even the ticket machines were covered with a sheet saying "Have a smooth journey and arrive home safely."

"Who did this?" Old Li complained to the new intern, Xiao Zhang. Xiao Zhang pushed up his glasses and said carefully, "Uncle Li, I heard this is what was requested from above, to reflect...to reflect a new kind of cultural creativity?"

"One minute left!" a sugary female voice echoed through the office from the speakers, like a death knell. Zhang Qiang looked up at the digital clock on the wall, 12:00, precise to the second.

This was the company's newly implemented "midday relaxation" session, touted as being for the health and well-being of the employees. Every day at noon, all employees had to put aside their work and participate in a "beneficial to mind and body" activity. Today's activity was "one minute of silence."

Old Li had been working at the community supermarket for almost ten years, transforming from a naive young man into a greasy middle-aged one. He felt that the supermarket was like his life, he could see the end at a glance – plain, but something he couldn't give up.

Recently, the community started a new thing: residents would score the supermarket. It wasn’t anonymous scoring, but rather, real-name scoring via handwritten notes posted on the notice board at the entrance of the supermarket. At first, everyone found it quite novel, but later it changed its flavor.

Li Ming habitually took out his phone and scanned the QR code on his high-speed rail ticket. The ticket gate beeped and released him, and he dragged his suitcase into the waiting hall. The screen displayed train information, and he confirmed the train number and platform, and skillfully found his carriage.

Train conductor Li Ming sighed, looking at the empty train car. It was another G233 high-speed train with only him on board, traveling from Beijing to Shanghai. Ever since the implementation of the new seat reservation system, his daily work felt like acting to an empty room. There were very few passengers, but that was not the strangest part. The weirdest thing was that, no matter which train it was, there was always an "E seat" that was booked but never actually occupied.

Old Wang had been working at the gas station for ten years. Every morning, he put on the blue uniform that could never be completely clean, stood beside the cold gas pump, and began his mechanical day. “Hello, welcome! What kind of fuel do you need?” “Okay, fueling, please wait a moment,” “Fueling complete, please drive safely!” He had to repeat these words hundreds of times a day, like a programmed machine.

Recently, the company introduced a new “incentive system.” Each attendant wore a small loudspeaker on their chest, which would automatically play a pre-recorded pep talk whenever a customer drove into the station: "Add oil! Let's be full of energy today!", "Add oil! Life is like a gas tank, full of power!", "Add oil! Speed up for your dreams!"

The lights in the operating room were pale and glaring, like a pair of indifferent eyes. Anesthesiologist Lao Li was skillfully preparing the anesthesia. He had been in this position for almost twenty years, what hadn't he seen? From crying children to ashen-faced elders, all had calmed down under his needles.

Today’s surgery was a small appendectomy. The patient was a young delivery guy named Xiao Wang. Lying on the operating table, Xiao Wang seemed a bit nervous, but still managed a smile at Lao Li: “Dr. Li, thank you for your trouble.”

Old Wang was a chef, or more precisely, a chef who made smashed cucumbers. His smashed cucumbers weren't sliced with a knife but rather "smashed" using a family-inherited "unique technique." The result was cucumbers that were crisp, flavorful, and unmatched by any other establishment. This made Old Wang a prized asset at the "Four Seasons Spring" restaurant.