The sun lazily spilled onto the stone table in the park. Ke Jie—no, it should be "World Go Nine-Crown Champion"—sat upright, facing an old man in an undershirt, holding half a steamed bun in his hand. The chessboard was very old, with even a few suspicious stains on it, but the pieces were new, jet-black and shiny, out of place with everything around them, just like his current identity.

The day after he changed his Weibo note to "World Go Nine-Crown Champion," he decided to come here to play chess. Not to prove anything, but just to see what this title could bring him. He imagined that maybe someone would recognize him, and then rush to take photos with him, ask for his autograph, or at the very least, someone would exclaim, "Oh, isn't that...that...the Nine-Crown Champion?"

Old Li sat in front of the TV, a bag of peanuts in his hand, as the award ceremony for a Go competition played on the screen. He wasn't a Go enthusiast; he'd only been following it because everyone in the neighborhood had been talking about it these past few days, saying there was a "zero-win champion." It was a novelty, something he had to see.

On the screen, a young man received the trophy with a stiff expression, forcing a smile. The commentator’s voice was laced with a hint of awkward excitement: "Let's once again congratulate Mr. Bian Xiangyi, who won this year's LG Cup with a record of zero wins!"

Old Wang has been troubled recently. Not because of the year-end bonus, nor the performance evaluation, but because his "color" is not pure enough.

He is a middle-level manager at a large internet company, wearing a suit and tie every day, entering and exiting high-end office buildings, looking glamorous on the surface. But Old Wang always feels that there is still some "impurity" left on him, like a white shirt that hasn't been washed clean, with a few yellowish-gray patches, especially noticeable under the light.

Hugo liked counting steps, not for health, but to complete his weekly "activity" goals. He was a French naval soldier stationed on a "Triomphant" class nuclear submarine. The interior of the submarine was cramped. Except for his shifts, he spent most of his time lying in bed. The only times he moved was to the cafeteria or the bathroom. Therefore, his daily steps usually hovered around 100.

Of course, this number was too embarrassing. Hugo felt that even underwater, he needed to maintain a good "active" image. He downloaded a step-counting app specifically designed for "cheating." This app could simulate realistic movement data based on preset routes and step frequencies. As a result, his phone would display thousands of steps of "glorious achievements" every day.

Old Pierre's greatest hobby after retirement was his evening stroll along the harbor. He always wore that faded navy blue jacket, clutching an old flip phone in his hand, his last bit of stubbornness against using smartphones. He believed those fancy gadgets only made people forget the meaning of walking.

Old Wang is a postman in Maple Leaf Town. He's been doing this job for almost twenty years, riding his old bicycle through the town's streets every day, rain or shine. Maple Leaf Town isn't big, just a few main roads and some old neighborhoods. He could navigate it with his eyes closed. Recently, things have been a little different in the town, or rather, things are different in the sky.

There are a few buzzing "giant flies" in the sky now. Old Wang knows they are drones, supposedly bought by the Canadian government to monitor the border. The border is just a small river away; on the other side is the United States. Old Wang often sees the farms on the other side, cows leisurely grazing in the fields, and occasionally a few cowboys riding horses, very much like a Western movie.

The cold wind howled, and police dog Fu Zai shook off his wet fur, his ears drooping like two withered leaves battered by rain. Today was the day the team was handing out year-end bonuses, and also the day his bonus was deducted.

Fu Zai was an excellent police dog, at least in the first two years after he joined the force. He had a keen sense of smell, fast pursuit speed, precise biting skills, and had assisted in solving many cases, earning him numerous awards. However, in the past year, Fu Zai had changed, becoming full of "office vibes."

Old Wang was known as a "rule-abiding person" in his community. He followed all the rules, always has. A new rule was posted in the community, stating that when walking in the community, one must walk on the white tiles; otherwise, a fine would be imposed.

Old Wang felt like a charlatan for the first time, even though he was just a zookeeper.

He held a plastic bottle in his hand, filled with a stinky liquid that the zoo director euphemistically called "Tiger Essence," priced at fifty yuan a bottle. Old Wang was responsible for selling it, and his sales targets were even included in his performance evaluation.

Old Wang had worked at the "Bleaching" Center for twenty years. His job was monotonous and mechanical: to thoroughly bleach various items delivered daily through complex procedures. These items varied widely, from old clothes and old furniture to broken electronics and even some "domestic waste" of unknown origin.

The Bleaching Center was located on the edge of the city, surrounded by endless white factories. Everything here was white: the walls, the floors, the work clothes, even the air was filled with a faint smell of bleach. Old Wang wore a white uniform every day, numbly operating the machines, his world gradually turning into a monotonous white.