The Daily Counterattack of a Salty Civil Servant

Chen Yan, the most inconspicuous civil servant in the Municipal Bureau, is so stingy that he even takes a long way back to the office to save on the elevator fee. Divorced and raising a child, raising a six-year-old daughter alone, with a monthly salary, life seems to be on a cycle. Every day, I buy groceries at the morning market, send my children to play games, receive admission notices, fill out petitions, and work overtime on reports. I am as ordinary as a transparent person. Once when I was sorting out old files, I accidentally got a golden finger. It is a blessing to be able to predict small things in the next 24 hours: which vegetable stall has discounted eggs, what number is the package in the express cabinet, and which colleague will buy milk tea. From then on, her life began to be precise: she stocked up on good things at low prices, helped her neighbors save on electricity bills, and even added double portions of shredded chicken to her mother's cold noodles. While others were extremely busy, she finished her meal before eight o'clock and played three games of table tennis with her daughter. Once ignored, she became the most popular "saving koi" in the family home. The boss rushed to ask her to be a project partner, and her ex-husband regretted it too late. In the future, she will not only save enough for her daughter's study abroad fund, but also use careful budgeting to live up to the most healing fireworks legend in the city.