I Kill Fish at the Court of Judicial Review

A growing heroine + a brooding, calculating male lead I transmigrated. And I transmigrated right in the middle of the worst outbreak. After more than twenty years of ordinary luck, it finally got a little better. Though I'd left the familiar world behind, at least my odds of dying had gone down. Maybe... people who shoot to fame are doomed to fall, and lasting success is impossible. I was born in the middle of nowhere, right on top of a murder scene. I somehow managed to land a temporary job with the authorities, so at last I could earn a living. Turns out you really shouldn't get too cocky. The first time I finally got a day off and went out, I ran into a kidnapping. Fine, fine, it was just an accident. The second time I went out, I ran into human traffickers. Were traffickers really that brazen these days? Did they only target people who worked for the authorities? Turns out relying on heaven, earth, or your coworkers is no match for relying on yourself. Things went a little off course, but once again I managed to stay alive. Then came the third time, the fourth time... Is being a temp really this dangerous? Why am I always the one getting hurt? Or is the feng shui bad? Or did this little butterfly from the modern world flap its wings and bring the Siberian winds along with it? Inner monologue: A modern person with all the right values? No!!! Actually, I'm a mishmash... A safe, stable government job for life? Yes! Yes! Yes! A job with a high risk factor is worse than dying in the outbreak... The template is right, but not primitive. A mature society. Uhhhh... Needs more research...