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。
The fireworks on New Year's Eve were more dazzling than ever before. Programmer Li Ming squinted, his fingers flying across the screen. He wasn't working overtime; he was decoding.
Li Ming had recently been feeling a little off in his neck, as if a small lump had grown there. It didn't hurt or itch, but it always felt a bit unsettling. He went to the hospital for a check-up, and the doctor said it was a thyroid nodule, benign, but recommended regular check-ups. Li Ming didn't pay too much attention to it; after all, who doesn't have minor health issues these days? Besides, he was busy trying to meet his quarterly KPIs.
Li Ming was an ordinary employee at an internet company. His daily routine involved staring at a computer screen, typing code, revising plans, and attending meetings. The company had a strict KPI assessment system, with monthly targets. Failure to meet them resulted in deductions from performance bonuses, and consistently ranking at the bottom for several months could lead to being laid off. Li Ming had always been conscientious, working hard to avoid falling behind.
Old Li set up his chess stall under the gazebo in the community park, relying on the small earnings to pass the time after retirement. The sun was nice today, and he had just set up when he saw a young woman pointing her phone at him, taking a barrage of photos.
"Grandpa, your chess stall is so creative!" the woman said with a giggle, revealing a row of even teeth.
The clatter of keyboard clicks echoed in the empty office. It was New Year's Eve, and the occasional sounds of firecrackers outside made the office seem even more silent. Lao Zhang, a senior programmer, was staring at the dense code on the screen, his brow furrowed. He wasn't working overtime voluntarily, but rather "voluntarily compelled" – the company, in response to the call for "triple pay," had arranged for a group of people to work overtime on New Year's Eve, under the guise of "contributing to the country's information technology."
Lao Zhang stared at the variables on the screen, but his mind was calculating today's overtime pay. Triple pay! All in all, this year wouldn't be a waste. He rubbed his hands together and continued to type code. Although he couldn't smell the fragrance of the New Year's Eve dinner at home, the constantly updating numbers on the screen gave him a sense of comfort.
Zhang Wei, an inconspicuous programmer in a cubicle, has recently found himself a "celebrity." To be precise, a "net god." It all started with a post he made on an anonymous forum ten years ago. Several hundred words, it accurately predicted every program of this year's Spring Festival Gala, from the opening dance to the midnight chimes, even including a celebrity's lip-syncing being exposed by the audience.
Old Zhang stood in front of the mirror, carefully applying foam to his hair. Today was National Hair Washing Day, a new regulation issued by the "Better Life Promotion Committee" aimed at "enhancing the national spirit." Old Zhang didn't quite understand the connection between spirit and hair washing, but he was a law-abiding person, after all, it was related to his personal credit score.
He lived in an old residential area, where the water pressure had always been unstable. To ensure a good hair washing effect, he had turned on the tap half an hour early, accumulating half a bucket of cold water. Now the hot water supply was normal, but the temperature felt inconsistent, like the unpredictable policy.
Zhang Qiang was the chosen one. Not because he was handsome, nor because he was talented. It was purely because he was ordinary enough, a regular office worker in Beijing for five years, over thirty, unmarried, and unable to snag a ticket home for the Chinese New Year.
The Spring Festival Gala directing team had launched a "time capsule" project, claiming to select fragments of ordinary people's lives, package them into data streams, and project them onto the future Spring Festival Gala stage, so that future audiences could see "us" and understand "us." Zhang Qiang found it intriguing, so he signed up.
Old Li is the owner of a community print shop. Before the Spring Festival, he introduced a machine called the "New Year Greeting Slogan Generator." This thing wasn't large, looking like an oversized calculator, with the words "New Year Blessings, One-Click Generation" flashing on the screen. Old Li didn't expect to get rich from it; he just wanted something novel to bring some fun to the neighborhood.
On the first day, customers flocked in. Someone asked for "newlywed blessings," and the machine spat out, "Wishing you a son soon, two children in three years." Someone wanted "auspicious words for the Year of the Snake," and the machine replied, "May the Year of the Snake bring you great fortune, dominate your area, and be flooded with wealth!" People found it novel and readily paid for it, seeking good luck. Old Li happily collected the money, thinking that this machine was quite fun, at least better than his old, outdated printer.