There Is a Trap in This Weird Contract

Strange stories seep into the city. Night shift convenience store, last shift subway, inpatient department, old residential building, each place has its own set of rules. What others saw was the fragment: "Don't look at the customer's face when he pays." What the adjuster promises to see is the complete terms—exceptions, time limits, and consequences of default. [Article 4: Don't look at the customer's face when checking out. (Exception: If the guest looks at the attendant for more than three seconds, this article will automatically become invalid. Defaulter: repay what is owed.)] The whole city lives by reciting the rules, but he reads the contract word for word and kills them. Others would trade their lives for half a sentence of experience, but he stood there and read the second half of the page. It's just that every time the hidden clause is quoted, he automatically becomes a contracting party of this place - perfect performance of the contract, and violators will be punished. The person in the city who is the best at exploiting loopholes must be the person in the city who keeps the most promises. In the first month, he had two "long-term" contracts, one unfinished offer, and an insurance policy with his name as the beneficiary lying in the system. He also discovered that the rules in the entire city share the same set of numbers: total-A. The number one—General-A001—cannot be found in any booklet. The foggy words on the car windows reminded him: Stop checking. After checking, it turned out to be someone from my own family.