Window order
At four o'clock in the morning, the county town was so quiet that only the sounds of keyboard typing and broom sweeping were left. The light in window No. 3 Has been on for twenty years.
Song Guifang, an ordinary woman who is hard to find after being thrown into the crowd, spent half her life guarding a glass cubicle. Her hands were engraved with the occupational disease of working at the desk, and her ring finger had the indentation of the ring she had taken off long ago. She once thought she was holding on to it for stability, so she held on to it for the rest of her life.
In the past twenty years, she has lightly touched the system, rewriting the fate of countless people: expedited documents, approved subsistence allowances, smooth political review... Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of dollars have turned into cold numbers on the ledger, accumulating into a weight of 16.14 Million. She has accepted favors, done practical things, and slipped into the abyss step by step through the cracks in the rules.
This small window is the humblest epitome of power and a mirror of the county's humane society, reflecting the anxiety of the supplicants, the indifference of bystanders, and the compromises of those in power. She thought she had grasped the money and power, but in the end she was left with nothing.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
