Old Liu clutched the crumpled train ticket, the "101 hours" on it like a needle, piercing his heart. It wasn't that he couldn't afford a sleeper, or that he didn't know high-speed rail was faster. But he had to take this slow train. It was part of his "Year-End Dedication Award," purchased uniformly by the company.

The company grandly called it "experiencing life, staying true to our original aspirations," but in reality, it was a disguised deduction of year-end bonuses. Old Liu's "Dream Future Technology Company" was notorious in the industry for its high-intensity overtime and endless PPTs, yet their year-end benefits were shockingly stingy. For that little bit of performance bonus, everyone was grinding like tireless machines, even their journey home was being "educated."

Before retiring, the old soldier Pierre’s greatest pleasure was taking daily walks by the sea. He had an old-fashioned step counter that recorded his daily walking mileage. He used to be a radio operator on a nuclear submarine, but now, he just wanted to live a quiet life, like the calm sea he saw every morning when he opened his window.

After retirement, besides walking, Pierre also became fond of bragging with his old buddies in cafes. Their topics always revolved around those “thrilling” years of service. Pierre always smiled silently, feeling that those so-called thrills now seemed to have a layer of boring gray. Until one day, a young reporter came running to him with a newspaper, asking, "Sir, were you once stationed on the 'Triomphant'?"

Zhou Xiao was a "senior" programmer. How senior? He had been "fishing" at the company for five whole years. Of course, "fishing" here didn't mean he was actually slacking off, but that he had completely automated his job.

The night was deep, and the neon lights of Paris streets flickered like blurred eyes. Jean-Pierre sat by the window of a café, his coffee had long gone cold. He stared at his phone screen, where the words “Step synchronization failed” were displayed, a red exclamation mark mocking his efforts.

He wasn't an ordinary French soldier; he was a navigator on the nuclear submarine "Le Triomphant." His daily steps, which might just be a number for others, were related to national security for him. Or so he originally thought.

Old Liu had worked at the zoo for thirty years, and his job was to clean the tiger enclosure. It wasn't a job that required much skill; it was just dirty and smelly. But Old Liu liked this kind of simple, direct work. Staring at the tigers all day was easier than dealing with people.

Recently, the zoo came up with an "innovation" and started selling tiger urine. They said that tourists were curious and wanted to buy it to "ward off evil." Old Liu thought it was absurd, but the director said it could generate revenue, and there was nothing shameful about it. So, in addition to cleaning the tiger enclosure, Old Liu had to collect tiger urine.

Old Wang wasn't an ordinary electrician. He was afraid of heights, afraid of sparks, afraid of electrical leaks, and even afraid of falling off utility poles—even just the thought of it. This was a well-known joke among his colleagues, who secretly called him "King Rat." But Old Wang became the most sought-after electrician in the area.

Not because he overcame his fear, but quite the opposite, because of his fear.

Li Mei pushed open the heavy glass door of the bank. A blast of cool air hit her, dissipating some of the heat from outside. She clutched the bank card tightly in her hand. It held the 800,000 yuan she and her husband had worked so hard to save. Originally, they planned to use this money to pay a down payment for their son, but now, the money seemed to have turned into an unreachable number.

The "fastest" mayor, Zhou Zhengtou, is in trouble. Not on a marathon course, but in the office of the Municipal Commission for Discipline Inspection. The news spread like a gust of wind, instantly dissipating his former aura. Citizens discussed it heatedly, scrutinizing everything from the reflections on his office building's glass to his brisk strides during site visits.

Zhou Zhengtou was indeed fast. During his tenure, he was known for his "efficiency," never dilly-dallying in meetings and always being the first to arrive on project sites. In his office, a huge city planning map was displayed, with red marker circles highlighting the projects he personally oversaw. He enjoyed running in the early mornings, reportedly able to complete the entire ring road in one go, and then promptly appear in the office to start his day. He ran faster than anyone else, as if he could catch up with time, with the tide of development.

Old Liu was late again today. It wasn't because he overslept, but because his city had recently introduced a traffic rule called "Smart Person Acceleration Lane."

Specifically, if you had made more than three constructive suggestions in company meetings, or published more than two industry papers, or completed an "valuable" innovative project in the boss's eyes within the past year, your driver's license would be automatically marked as "smart person," and the vehicle identification system would be updated accordingly. Vehicles with this mark could use a dedicated acceleration lane during the morning rush hour, allowing them to move smoothly without any obstruction.

Liu Qiang tightened his down jacket and rubbed his hands, which were red with cold. The glass curtain wall of the company building reflected the city's neon lights, like a cold mirror, showing his tired face. Today is the last day of the New Year shopping festival. At eight o'clock tonight, JD.com will release the last wave of discounts. For him, this is not just about grabbing New Year goods, but a battle concerning his dignity.

"Liu Qiang, what are you staring at the screen for? Your performance hasn't met the target today, and you're still in the mood to browse Taobao?" Supervisor Zhang Jie's voice was like an ice pick, chilling his back.