Neon smudged into bloody spots in the rain.
Lin Xiaozao stared at the distorted reflection in the instant noodle pot, while the twenty-seventh rejection letter was frosting on the induction cooker. When the mobile phone shook the oil slick, Jinlong jumped from the bottom of the soup and smashed the ceiling of the rental house with the "Tianting Labor Dispatch Contract" in his mouth.
"Nighttime delivery is calculated as overtime pay at 0.3 Times the merit?" He tightened his grip on the cinnabar pen, and the hungry ghost icon on the tripod pattern was leaking out bits of ghost money.
Twelve plasma bags were played in the incubator with advertisements for Mrs. Meng, and blood type identification certificates were floating in the slits of the cheongsam. When the mechanical spider legs dragged him against the office glass, what was reflected in the overtime programmer's lens was a human-shaped kite being held up by auspicious clouds to deliver the "O-type blood package".
"No garlic! No green onions! The bad reviews from the zombies will drive you to pieces!" Lin Xiaozao roared in the thunderstorm as the incubator spider legs climbed over the No. 444 Boundary marker on Huangquan Road. The curse of the tripod body began to appear as the merit value fell below the negative number - those engraved in the bronze rust were not labor contracts at all, but takeaway receipts for three thousand hungry ghosts.
The heavy rain washed away the solidified oil on the instant noodles, and the sound of keyboard tapping came from the cubicle on the 24th floor. In the takeout box that no one heard falling from the clouds, twelve packs of virgin blood were playing the last advertisement: "New users of Wangchuan River enjoy a 30% discount, and overtime orders will receive a free trial of Meng Po Soup..."
At this moment, a green order-taking light beam rose from the cemetery in the western suburbs...
