Old Wang felt like he had become a "trendsetter" for the first time. It wasn't because he bought some trendy new electronic product, or learned some high-tech skill, but because of the small plastic stool he was carrying.

The cinema entrance was crowded with people, all carrying various types of stools – wooden, plastic, tall, short – a motley collection resembling a market. Old Wang looked at his slightly worn-out blue stool he’d fished out from home and suddenly felt a little embarrassed.

Old Wang clutched a crumpled movie ticket, on which the words "Bench Ticket" were clearly printed. He looked around; the cinema lobby was bustling with people, each carrying a variety of benches. There were small plastic stools, bulky wooden benches, and even someone lugging a foldable lounge chair.

"These days, you even have to bring your own equipment to watch a movie," Old Wang muttered. In his hand was an old wooden plank he had found at home, looking rather shabby.

The cold winter wind cut through the gas station like a knife, leaving it deserted. Only the orange glow of the lights illuminated the cold asphalt. Old Wang huddled deeper into his cotton coat, exhaling a puff of white mist. He had been working the night shift at this remote gas station for five years. Since the company introduced robots to replace human workers, it had become a forgotten corner.

Old Wang had given this robot a name, “Little Iron,” even though it was just a cold machine. He still had a habit of talking to it. Tonight, Little Iron was different. It was no longer mechanically repeating “Welcome, please scan to refuel,” but instead making strange noises.

Old Wang sat in his twenty-seventh-floor office at Jinsheng Group, staring blankly at the K-line chart on his computer screen. The price of gold had risen again, like a mad, runaway horse, galloping far ahead. He tapped on the keyboard, trying to turn these frantic numbers into a decent report, but the lines, in his eyes, were like golden fetters around his neck, tightening more and more.

Old Wang was randomly assigned to the dumpling-making session at the annual party. He rubbed his hands, looking at the various colored dumpling fillings in front of him, feeling like an elementary school student attending a handicraft class. The theme of the annual party was "Technology Empowerment," and even making dumplings had to be tech-savvy—each filling was associated with a QR code, and you had to scan the code to know what the filling was.

Old Wang picked up a ball of meat filling with a small QR code attached. He took out his phone, aimed it at the QR code, and with a "beep," a word popped up on the screen: "A17 Data Stream."

Lao Wang, carrying two bags of snacks, struggled through the crowded cinema. It was the first day of the Lunar New Year, and tickets for the Spring Festival movie season were incredibly hard to come by. He had managed to snag tickets two weeks in advance, and today he could finally enjoy the festivities with his wife.

Old Wang sat at his workstation, staring blankly at the blurry screenshot on his computer screen. In the screenshot, a robot on the Spring Festival Gala stage was wearing a flesh-colored pair of tight pants, looking utterly ridiculous under the spotlight.

“Tell me,” Old Wang asked his colleague, Xiao Li, who was sitting next to him, “whose idea was this pair of pants, anyway?”

Old Wang opened a lotus root cake shop in an urban village. It was small, just a fryer and two tables. His lotus root cakes were crispy and delicious, famous far and wide. Every evening, a long queue formed outside the shop, filled with the warmth of everyday life.

“蛇年春晚，一切蛇么都好！”这是总导演在动员大会上喊出的口号。老王作为道具组的小组长，被这口号震得虎躯一震。这蛇年，真是处处都透着一股子邪性。

Li Ming, carrying his small red plastic stool, looked out of place in the crowded cinema ticket gate. The people around him were either carrying small stools printed with cartoon characters, holding folding chairs, or even lugging wooden benches from home. This was a new project launched by the "Starlight Cinema" in the small county – no-seat movie viewing.

He originally thought it was just a gimmick, but he didn't expect that people actually bought these tickets. The Spring Festival movies were so popular that tickets were hard to come by. Those with seats were in "emperor positions," while those without became "stool spectators." Li Ming originally grabbed a ticket with a seat, but the system crashed. After the refund, he could only helplessly choose the no-seat ticket, which was half the price.