After graduating with a degree in sociology, I was admitted to the most unpopular civil servant position - mediator of the Shanhai Bureau.
Colleagues are not human beings: my partner is a crane who just wants to retire early, a depressed nine-tailed fox sits in the next door department, and the cafeteria aunt is actually a Qingluan.
The daily tasks are: planning a travel route for Fu Zhu that will not cause waterlogging, helping the Chaos Beast to obtain a new "faceless" ID card, and preventing the Bifang Bird from practicing fire breathing in the urban area, in case the mythical beast is injured at work.
I thought this was a fishing priesthood, until I privately adopted an injured "Philip" (a mythical beast that specializes in sweet dreams).
The director slapped the table: What you are holding is the only living evidence of the "Happiness Narcolepsy" serial case!
My partner sneered: Boy, you smell like a traitor who stabbed a mythical beast in the back thousands of years ago.
A mysterious text message appears: Want to save other mythical beasts? At ten o'clock tomorrow night, don't bring your crane.
Now, my left hand is the cry for help from endangered mythical beasts, and my right hand is the iron law for maintaining stability in the human world.
And my sociology notes can hardly remember the truth about the world.
