Old Wang, before retiring, was the director of education at a school, a man who adhered to rules and regulations his entire life. Now, he was frowning at the New Year's Eve dinner table. What worried him was not the lack of New Year's goods or his children not being by his side, but his grandson, Xiao Bao, who was in elementary school.

"Height is justice" - this mantra, which Xiao Jia held as an indisputable truth, had recently become the root of his anxiety. Watching his former childhood friends, once half a head shorter than him, now all looking impressive at the class reunion, even the company's receptionist was taller than him by a head. He felt like a dwarf abandoned by the times, his small body harboring the desire to grow like a wild weed bursting from the earth.

Xiao Jia decided to take a risk and go to a height-increase clinic that claimed to be "painless and fast-acting." The clinic was hidden in a dilapidated residential building in the suburbs, with no sign at the door, only the words "Height Dreams Start Here" scrawled on the wall. This eerie sense of mystery only made Xiao Jia more convinced that this was the place to make his dream come true.

"Welcome to the 'Teacher Title Evaluation Simulator'. In order to improve the efficiency of the evaluation and reduce human interference, we have launched this completely fair and objective system. Please enter your personal information."

On the screen, the cursor flickered, and Lao Wang typed on the keyboard with a slightly trembling hand. He is a veteran language teacher with twenty years of experience, and his eloquent speeches on the podium have long been replaced by clumsy keystrokes on the keyboard. He is at the critical juncture of title evaluation again this year. Although he is aware of the tricks of the trade, he still holds a sliver of hope and wants to see what score this "completely fair and objective" system will give him.

Old Wang was forcibly dragged into the "APT speed course."

He had worked at this Shanghai hot pot restaurant for nearly five years, evolving from a clueless newbie who only knew how to swish lamb into a "veteran" waiter. Life was pretty good; he just greeted guests and eavesdropped on gossip. But ever since the restaurant started this "international transformation," everything changed.

The train jolted violently, and the screeching sound of the brakes cut through the heavy air. A mechanical, calm female voice came over the loudspeaker: "Passengers, train D3014 has made an emergency stop due to hitting an unidentified object. Please be patient while our staff addresses the situation."

Wang Ming sighed and put down his newspaper. This was the third time this month the train had stopped due to an "unidentified object." The first time, it hit a plastic bag; the second, a torn raincoat; and now, it was an "unidentified object." He rubbed his temples, the view outside the window was a monotonous grey, matching his mood.

The gas station's bell rings on time, not a real bell, but a system notification sound. Every day at six in the morning, it announces the start of a new day in a mechanical yet slightly excited tone. "Go for it, working stiff!" The cartoon character on the screen waves its fist, its smile frozen, as if mocking.

Li Ming skillfully puts on his work hat, which is printed with "Today's Oil Price: 7.88 yuan/liter". This number changes every day, stimulating his nerves like a stock price. When it goes up, he sighs; when it falls, he feels disappointed, as if he has become a slave to oil prices.

Before retiring, Old Wang rented a safety deposit box at a bank and put all of his family's heirloom gold and silver into it. He always felt uneasy keeping these items at home, believing it was more secure in the bank. He carefully read the safekeeping contract three times; the bank's seal was a vivid red, and his name was neatly written as the depositor.

Zhang Qiang stood in front of the full-length mirror, a slight smile playing on his lips as he gazed at his tall figure. He had paid an unimaginable price for this moment.

A few months ago, he was just an ordinary office worker, standing at 1.68 meters tall, feeling like a sardine in the crowded subway and a replaceable cog in the company machine. He was tired of looking up to others and longed to be the center of attention. So, he sought out the "Highly Customized" company.

Old Li died, quietly and without a sound. Just like the decades he lived, equally silent. When the community members cleaned his room, they found three bank cards and a property certificate, with a total value of nearly five million yuan. But this inheritance became a hot potato, unclaimed.

Old Li was never married, had no children, his parents had passed away early, and he had lost contact with distant relatives. It was as if he had appeared out of thin air in this city, and disappeared just as suddenly, leaving behind a pile of ownerless wealth.

At three in the afternoon, sunlight poured onto the windowsill of the legacy management office like melted honey. Old Lin, a seasoned administrator with twenty years of experience, was staring blankly at the cold numbers on his computer screen: 4.3 million yuan, and an apartment in the city center, unclaimed. This wasn't the largest estate he had handled, but it was the most absurd.

Old Lin adjusted his reading glasses and sighed. In this day and age, someone could actually be "so rich no one wants it," a merciless mockery of the social principle of "men die for wealth." He opened the thick case file, which recorded the life of the deceased Mr. Zhang, a life that was sketchy and brief, much like his quiet existence. No spouse, no children, not even distant relatives could be found.