Zhu Daya weighs 320 jin and sleeps under the bed in a shared apartment. Every day, he spends twenty minutes squeezing himself into the shell of a "human": three layers of concealer hide his pig snout, hair wax slicks down his ears, and he stuffs his tail deep into his underwear.
He's a pig demon. In a human office tower, he writes proposals, gets chewed out, and swallows his anger. His monthly salary is 7,200 yuan, and it hasn't gone up in three years. Until one day, he reaches his breaking point: mud bursts from the ceiling, and a 320-jin black boar smashes through the floor of the seventeenth story.
When he wakes up, he remembers nothing. But his boss has been suspended, and there's an automatically sent whistleblower email in his inbox.
Then the new boss arrives. A thousand-year-old python, disguised as a gentle woman, takes a silver insulated box from the company every month. What's inside is worth a million yuan per milliliter.
And Zhu Daya's father has already been locked up for fifteen years at the place that supplies the "raw materials."
He has three months. After that, he'll be packed into a box himself.
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