My Destiny

The next day when I arrived at the hospital, a nurse handed me a letter that the woman had delivered early in the morning. In the letter, she said she had looked it up online and confirmed I hadn’t lied to her. She apologized to me, acknowledged that my nursing work was quite good, admitted that all the past unpleasantness was her fault, and hoped I would continue caring for her elderly father and not just walk away…

“It was just some verbal rudeness—annoying, yes—but you graduated from nursing school, so you should understand that this kind of person and this kind of situation are common in hospitals. She’s admitted her mistake in writing, which shows sincerity. Please forgive her.”

The nurse I knew tried to persuade me like this.

A deputy director of the hospital also appeared. He said he had also looked up Yu County Nursing School online. He told me that if I considered becoming a formal nurse, he would be willing to recommend me to the hospital.

I’m not the kind of willful girl who insists on having the last word when she’s in the right.

So I stayed.

The old man also apologized to me.

He said, “She’s my daughter, and you’re someone she paid to take care of me. No matter how right you are or how wrong she is, don’t I have to side with her? If I didn’t side with her but instead sided with you, what kind of father would I be? Wouldn’t that be like turning my elbow outward? So, young lady, I ask you to bear with it a little more. In the future, I’ll just praise you a few words in front of her, okay…”

I felt that for an old man to speak to this extent, it should count as an apology.

I smiled and only said two words: “Thank you.”

I let bygones be bygones and continued to care for him as before.

When I finished work that day and stepped outside, a light rain had started again. Just as I was worrying about not having brought an umbrella, someone ran toward me from across the street holding one. Only when the person raised the umbrella over my head did I recognize Yao Yun.

She said she guessed I hadn’t brought an umbrella, so she came to pick me up.

There was another person holding an umbrella across the street, clearly a man.

She said the man was a friend of hers, accompanying us for our safety.

Her and her friend’s kindness warmed my heart.

That day, she was wearing women’s shorts and a long-sleeved jacket with a hem that could be tied at the waist. She wore no makeup and had a square silk scarf tied around her head. I caught a faint smell of alcohol—I didn’t know where the two of them had been drinking.

Her friend escorted us all the way to the entrance of the inn without saying a word. Yao Yun and I exchanged a few words—mostly her talking about how she planned to spend the Spring Festival and asking about my plans. I said I hadn’t thought about it yet, and she said she hoped we could go out and have fun together. I was happy to agree.

The inn was closed. After 10:30 p.m., the owner would lock the door from the inside. I had a key. The owner knew I didn’t finish work until after midnight and had trustingly given me a key. It was better for him too—he didn’t have to be woken up every night by my knocking.

After I opened the door, Yao Yun pulled her friend inside as well, which I hadn’t expected at all. She had already taken off her shoes outside and was holding them in her hand. They were a pair of red high heels, which left me staring in surprise. Yao Yun kissed me on the cheek, whispered “Good night,” and, holding her high heels in one hand and her friend’s hand in the other, slipped into her room like a shadow.

Everything happened so quickly that I couldn’t help but stand there stunned for a moment.When I also entered my own room, picked up "Little Friend," and sat on the edge of the bed, I couldn’t help but think—if Yao Yun hadn’t come looking for me, she wouldn’t have been able to smoothly bring her boyfriend into the hotel. Moreover, her pair of red high heels reminded me of the red high heels I had seen from the small window. I couldn’t conclude from this that the woman outside the window that day must have been her, or that the man wearing flat leather shoes must have been the boyfriend she brought back to the hotel.

For some reason, though, I actually hoped that the couple I saw lying on the bed that day were her and her quiet boyfriend.

As for whether she and her boyfriend bringing an umbrella to pick me up and returning to the hotel with me was an act of kindness or a means of using me, I couldn’t come to a conclusion either. But I preferred to believe it was kindness. Even if it really was using me, I wasn’t the least bit angry. On the contrary, I felt her way of using me was rather childish, which also allowed me to appreciate her charm.

The only thing I could be certain of was that she definitely wasn’t as lucky as I was—absolutely no one had left her 120,000 to 130,000 yuan.

Thinking this, I felt a slight sense of superiority.

I also believed that a girl like her from the Northeast, with both her father and herself laid off, so far away in Shenzhen, destined to struggle just as hard as I did to earn money, absolutely deserved to have a man care for her. Whether he was her boyfriend or not didn’t matter, and whether he was her only one wasn’t an issue for me either.

That small sense of superiority led me into my own imagination—I even became intoxicated with the idea of being an angel, obligated to bring her a bit of happiness, even if it was just a fleeting, rain-like joy. As long as it helped her withstand the blows of adversity, it seemed to align with God’s will.

And yet, I had never held any religious beliefs.

I found it strange that I would have such thoughts, and I seemed to share in the happiness I brought her—wasn’t that the case? If I didn’t have a key, she wouldn’t have been able to bring a non-guest man in during the late night. To continue bringing her that happiness, I was willing to use my key to serve her.

The next day, I still woke up late.

Perhaps she had grown familiar with the sound of my footsteps, because just as I finished washing up and was returning to my room, her door swung open as I passed by.

She stood inside the doorway and said, “I’d like to chat with you for a bit.”

I paused for a moment, then smiled and said, “Sure.”

She asked, “Your place or mine?”

I said, “I have a cat in my room, if you don’t mind cats…”

Before I could finish my next sentence, which was meant to be, “Then you’re welcome to come to my room,” she immediately said, “I like cats. My family has a cat too.”

All I could say was, “Then come over.”

No sooner had I stepped into my room than she followed, leaving her own door open and carrying a plastic bag in her hand.

I asked, “You’re just leaving your door open like that?”

She said, “It’s just the two of us staying here, no one to guard against. It’ll air out the smoke.”

I asked again, “You smoke?”

She said, “Occasionally, when I miss home too much.” She placed the plastic bag on the table. “Fried dough sticks and soy milk. I don’t know if you like them, but I brought them back for you. Eat them while they’re hot.”

I said, “Thanks, I love them. I’ll eat first, then.”

I was hungry, so I sat down on the chair and started eating."Little Friend" was no longer afraid of strangers and actively approached her. She gracefully sat down by the bed, placed "Little Friend" on her lap, and while stroking him, she said she had loved cats since childhood and still kept an old cat at home, which she had raised for nearly ten years. The cat had developed diabetes and gone blind. She said she sometimes missed her blind old cat dearly and wanted to earn extra money to cure its illness. According to the veterinary hospital, treating the old cat’s condition would require at least ten thousand yuan.

Her sense of responsibility toward the cat deeply moved me.

"Where are you from?"

"Guizhou."

"They say Guizhou is a poor province."

"The countryside is like that."

"But you don’t seem like a farmer’s daughter."

"I’m lucky—my family lives in the county town."

She glanced at the books by my bedside and asked, "Do you like reading?"

I replied, "They’re all novels. I’ve had the habit of reading leisurely books since childhood and can’t break it."

"Qiong Yao’s?"

"No, foreign ones."

"Are your parents intellectuals?"

I hadn’t expected her to ask that. After a slight hesitation, I went along with it and answered, "You could say so. They’re both middle school teachers."

"So, you’re a university student?"

"Yes."

I had no choice but to continue lying.

Since running away from home, I had lied more than once, including to Li Juan and Qian Qian, and gradually, I felt no shame about it. I avoided topics related to "family," as they often forced me to lie. Feeling fond of someone and treating them kindly was one thing, but whether to reveal my background was another. I kept the two matters clearly separate. Although I didn’t consider my background a disgrace, it was my wound!

"Why did you come to Shenzhen too and become…"

"A migrant worker?"

"You don’t mind me asking that, do you?"

"No. I came to Shenzhen because… I wanted to broaden my horizons and witness how a brand-new city is formed…"

My words were insincere, but I spoke as if they were true.

"I really envy you. How wonderful it would be if I could live as freely as you. But I came to Shenzhen just to earn a little more money. Comparing oneself to others is truly disheartening!"

There was a hint of melancholy in her tone.

I felt a touch of melancholy too. How I wished my parents were really middle school teachers in Yu County, not in this awkward situation. But fate had already decided, and hope had become an illusion. My purpose in coming to Shenzhen, like hers, was also driven by the lure of "money." If I didn’t become self-reliant, how could I continue spending my adoptive father’s money?

I had fallen into the trap of my own lies. Fortunately, I was eating, and our conversation was intermittent. Whenever I didn’t know what to say, I focused on eating and drinking, pretending that eating was my main priority and I couldn’t spare much attention for conversation.

By the time I finished eating and drinking, "Little Friend" had fallen asleep on her lap.

"He’s my senior apprentice brother…"

Yao Yun suddenly changed the subject, leaving me even more speechless.I could only smile kindly, as if I already knew even if she didn't say it. In truth, I had no interest whatsoever in what their relationship was. To go further, aside from my own family, I had no interest in any romantic relationships between others. Ah, family—compared to me, she at least had a home and family. But where was my home? Did "Mayor Father," who shared no blood relation with me, and those men and women on Shenxianding who, though related by blood, were complete strangers, truly count as family in the strictest sense?

This had become a Sphinx's riddle for me. How many times had I tried to find an answer, only to be stumped by my own questioning.

At that moment, I actually felt a twinge of envy toward her, as naturally as feeling superior because I had a savings account.

"My grandfather was an old model worker at the factory, the 'King of Fitters.' My master was my grandfather's apprentice and was like a brother to my father. He and I, we were both my master's favorite apprentices. He was the seventh-generation apprentice, and I was the tenth. Understand?"

Yao Yun spoke softly and steadily. Clearly, at that moment, she had a strong desire to share.

I nodded, putting on an attentive expression, trying my best to appear like an ideal listener for her.

She said her senior apprentice brother was already a fourth-grade fitter and had been a technical backbone at the factory before being laid off. She was only a second-grade fitter, but her skills were also quite good. If she hadn't been laid off, she would have been promoted to third grade in two years and would have been qualified to take on apprentices herself...

"Turning, fitting, milling, planing—though turning comes first, fitters are actually the most impressive. Because a fitter must also be a skilled turner and be capable of handling milling and planing work. The technical requirements for fitters are the most comprehensive, and the grading standards are stricter. Relatively, their wages are also higher..."

I had never been to a factory and knew nothing about what she was talking about. Gradually, I became interested in listening, feeling it was more worthwhile than hearing about romantic relationships—it was educational.

"But who could have imagined it? Once the country opened up, we realized China's industry had fallen decades behind. Advanced countries had long since adopted assembly lines, with mechanization rates over ninety percent. In the end, the factory went under, was sold off, and both of us were laid off. Nowadays, there's no place for us to use our skills anywhere. I never expected him to come to Shenzhen too. We ran into each other on the street not long ago. To earn a bit more, he’s been doing manual labor at construction sites. To earn even more, he decided not to go back for the Spring Festival and took on a temporary security job. During the two months around the festival, security guards get double pay. Once the construction sites get busy again and security wages drop, he’ll go back to being a laborer..."

She began to cry.

Even though she was only talking about her senior apprentice brother, I felt she was also talking about herself. Nine out of ten outsiders who didn’t return home before the Spring Festival were doing it to earn a bit more, and then a bit more.

I was an exception.I stayed in Shenzhen because I didn't know where else to go. Shenxianding was a place I wouldn't return to even if whipped, and besides, what home did I have there? My adoptive father wasn't at our home in Yuxian County during the Spring Festival, so I didn't want to stay alone in that empty house, surrounded by memories. In a mountain village in Guizhou, there were his elderly parents, older brother, older sister, and a whole host of relatives—their lives probably weren't much better than those in Shenxianding. Yet every Spring Festival, he would return to visit them without fail. His bond with them was close; for him, family ties and hometown sentiment carried almost equal weight. This was completely opposite to me—Shenxianding was like a nightmare to me.

I stood up from the chair and sat beside her on the bed, one arm around Yao Yun's waist, the other holding her hand, resting my head on her shoulder.

I truly didn't know how to respond to her words of envy, so I could only offer comfort in this way, while also comforting myself. Body language sometimes speaks louder than words, especially when it comes naturally—its effect cannot be conveyed through speech alone.

I think she understood my sincerity.

Her tears fell on my hand.

Just as I was about to tell her that my key was also in her hands, she spoke first.

She said, "My senior brother has a family."

Her words trapped mine behind my lips, like a rabbit that had just peeked out of its burrow only to be startled and retreat back inside.

I sat there intimately with her, unable to move.

She added, "I also have a family."

I felt as if I had been instantly frozen by an electric chill.

She told me frankly—her senior brother's wife had also been laid off and, unable to bear it, had jumped from a building. Though she survived, her legs were crippled. He sent his wife back to her parents' home in the countryside, where her parents cared for her, and entrusted their son and daughter to his own parents. As for her husband, he had been the director of the factory office, a section-level cadre. Their marital relationship had never been particularly good—marrying a female fitter was not his original intention, which was why they had delayed having children. But he never expected that after participating in decisions that sealed the fates of many laid-off workers, he would suffer the same fate himself, along with a torrent of blame. Some even threatened to "perish together" with him, leaving him too terrified to leave the house for a time. As the factory office director, he had often entertained guests, and drinking had become a way to demonstrate his competence, damaging his stomach in the process. After being laid off, he drowned his sorrows and resentment in alcohol, unable to let go of the dignity of being a section-level cadre. How could he actively "seek" a livelihood on his own? In short, her husband had completely turned into a drunkard...

"But then again, someone like him, with no skills and no strength, would find it extremely difficult to get a job in this province or city. Coming to the south to work? He was afraid of being humiliated and lacked the courage. I came to Shenzhen both out of necessity and to escape him—out of sight, out of mind... My senior brother and I... I had needs, both psychological and physical, and so did he... We... we were never the type to be casual about such things..."

She withdrew her hand and covered her face, weeping.

I remained "frozen," yet my heart was not "frozen." Like in Lu Xun's prose—"In the midst of fervent songs, I feel a chill; in the heavens, I see an abyss."Because my heart wasn't "frozen," I decided not to say what I had originally intended to tell her about the key—on one hand, I pitied her; on the other, I had my own principles as a person.

I can no longer recall the details of how I saw her out of the room, only the last words I said: "If you still want to talk, come over."

The next day, I woke up early, crossed the street to eat at a breakfast stall, and brought back some breakfast for her too.

She never came to my room to chat again.

Later, one day, she appeared outside the hospital again, standing next to her senior brother, deliberately turning her face away to avoid looking at me.

Once again, I brought the two of them to the inn.

Having principles is certainly important, but in my case, it's also important to be flexible and relax those principles when appropriate—my demands on myself began to loosen.

A few days before the Spring Festival, the elderly person I was caring for was discharged from the hospital, leaving me with free time.

At the washbasin, Yao Yun told me she hoped we could travel together around Shenzhen during the Spring Festival.

I happily agreed.

On New Year's Eve, several police officers suddenly barged into the inn, conducting a "vice sweep" inspection. They knocked directly on Yao Yun's door and asked her to "come with them."

I stood outside my door and witnessed the scene.

Yao Yun remained calm, offering no defense, and said peacefully, "I need to speak with her."

The police officers all looked at me.

I couldn't help but say, "She has that right."

So Yao Yun entered my room.

I asked the police, "Can I close the door for a moment?"

After they signaled their approval, I closed the door.

Yao Yun looked at me and asked, "Can I trust you?"

I said, "Yes."

She said, "Hold me."

I embraced her.

She whispered in my ear, "There's five thousand yuan in cash in my pillowcase, along with an address written on an envelope. I can't take the money with me—it'll be confiscated. Can you mail it to the address on the envelope for me?"

I said again, "Yes."

While she returned to her room to pack her things, the innkeeper stood outside the door, urging her to settle her bill first.

She suddenly grew irritated and shouted, "Can you wait a moment?!"

I said to the innkeeper, "I'll pay for her."

As she walked out of the room, one hand dragging her suitcase and the other holding her pillow, I stepped forward and said, "Let me take the pillow!"

She smiled and said nonchalantly, "That's exactly what I was going to give you."

Holding her pillow, I silently followed her outside the inn and watched her get into the police car.

In the police car, she said, "I won't be coming back here. Whatever's left in my room that you can use is yours. Whatever you don't need, the innkeeper can dispose of as he pleases."

There wasn't much left in her room that I could use. I only took a small round mirror and a few clothes hangers. Under the mirror was a piece of paper with several lines of times and locations—it was the travel plan she had drafted for the two of us.

I folded that page and tucked it into my pocket.

When I settled her bill, the innkeeper said, "Don't let her situation affect your mood while staying here. Even though we're fellow northeasterners and should look out for each other in principle, rules are rules. If we didn't report her, this little inn would lose its license. Then how would my family survive?..."

The innkeeper's wife chimed in from the side, "Besides, she never showed us any consideration. I don't know if she's just clueless or what, but every profession has its rules!"Her husband yelled at her, "What nonsense are you spouting? Get out of here!"

I didn’t say a word. Just as the line goes, "In the midst of fervent songs, one feels the chill; in the heavens, one sees the abyss"—I had already come to understand some of the helplessness in the world that I had previously failed to see. That day, I once again witnessed its hypocrisy and malice. Ever since the boss and his wife’s parents and children had also come to Shenzhen, Yao Yun had treated their entire family to several meals! How could they say she "hadn’t shown any appreciation"? They often invited Yao Yun to dine together as well, and they got along with each other "like fellow villagers, warm and harmonious"! I doubt she ever imagined that it was the fellow villager who affectionately called her "big sister" who had betrayed her.

From New Year’s Eve onward, the hotel, which had over twenty rooms, was left with only me as a guest. The hotel originally had a small restaurant, which was a source of income when there were more guests. After the chef and waitstaff returned to their hometowns for the holidays, the restaurant closed. Fortunately, there were a few small eateries across the street, so my meals were still taken care of.

The boss said to me, "You’re the only one staying here now. Starting tomorrow, the restaurants across the street won’t be open either. It’d be tough for a young lady like you to wander around looking for a place to eat. Why not join our family for meals? You’ll eat whatever we eat. You’re a long-term guest, so we won’t charge you for these few days during the Spring Festival. As long as you’re not picky."

He seemed very sincere.

I said I’d be wandering around during the Spring Festival, with meals at unpredictable times and places, and politely declined.

I was telling the truth.

But not wanting to eat at their place was also an unspoken reason.

While the four adults in his family were making dumplings, I went out and bought some instant noodles, bread, ready-to-eat food, milk, drinks, and fruit.

When I returned carrying two bags of groceries, the small dining room was lively. The boss’s family had already started their New Year’s Eve dinner, and the TV was turned up quite loud.

The landlady invited me to join them for the meal.

I said I wasn’t hungry, was tired, and wanted to sleep early.

After closing the door, I drank a carton of milk, ate a few biscuits, washed up at the sink, and then lay down on the bed. Actually, it wasn’t that early anymore—almost ten o’clock, and the Spring Festival Gala had been on for a while.

From the small dining room came the sound of a crosstalk performance, though I couldn’t make out who was speaking. The bursts of laughter, however, were clear—both from the boss’s family and from the TV. I dampened a napkin and stuffed it tightly into my ears. I wanted to read but couldn’t focus.

Little Friend lay beside me and soon fell asleep, paws up in the air. With its company, I didn’t feel too lonely, nor did I think missing out on dumplings or the Spring Festival Gala was much of a hardship—this was my own choice, and one must bear the consequences of their decisions.

Before I knew it, I fell asleep.

I was once awakened by the sound of firecrackers—the boss’s family had set them off outside the inn. Outside the small, ink-black horizontal window, streaks of orange “fire lines” occasionally appeared—the “traces” of fireworks shooting into the sky. I couldn’t see the brilliant display of fireworks blooming in the night sky at all, but I clearly saw a pair of red high heels, as if illuminated by a beam of light.

I sat up abruptly, staring intently, but there was nothing.

I closed my eyes and sat still for a moment before slowly lying back down. Turning over, I hugged Yao Yun’s pillow and gradually fell asleep again.

On the first day of 2003, most post offices in Shenzhen were open.

The first thing I did was send Yao Yun’s five thousand yuan to the address she had given me. Yao Yun had once told me where to rent a bicycle. When renting the bike, an older man asked if I had a temporary residence permit or a resident permit.

I said it was a temporary residence permit.

He said I’d have to pay a two-hundred-yuan deposit along with the rental fee, whereas with a resident permit, I’d only need to pay fifty yuan for the rental and leave the permit as collateral.

Fortunately, I had brought enough money, or the trip would have been wasted.

I said I’d never heard of resident permits for non-locals and asked how to get one.

He said, “Young lady, Shenzhen has quite a few permanent residents now, and it’s clearly developing into a major city. How could it not implement a resident permit system? But you have to pass an exam. Last year, less than a third of the people passed. The city’s prospects are definitely good. If you’re serious about becoming a Shenzhen resident, give it a try. If I were younger, I’d definitely try too. Listen to me, I guarantee you won’t regret becoming a Shenzhener.”

Thanks to that older man, his words served as a guiding light for me. They made me stop viewing Shenzhen solely from the perspective of a migrant worker and instead start considering whether I should become a Shenzhen resident.At that time, most of what I heard from various outsiders from all directions were words like shutdowns, work stoppages, closures, and layoffs; yet what I saw in Shenzhen was information everywhere about new production, construction starts, emerging industries, and all kinds of job advertisements. From inside the pass to outside, from the city center to the suburbs, construction scaffolds were too numerous to take in all at once. Even during the Spring Festival, several construction sites still had workers laboring. One thing was certain: the so-called suburbs I was observing would soon become new urban districts...

A new city with a vibrant momentum of development had conquered me. I felt it was like a handsome youth, destined without dispute to become a promising and accomplished young man. My heart was moved by it, my mind captivated.

At first, I still followed the route map Yao Yun had left, but later I rode as I pleased, wandering around everywhere.

On the afternoon of the third day of the lunar new year, when I returned the bicycle, I gave that uncle a whole case of mineral water.

He was surprised: "Young lady, what are you doing? I haven't done anything for you, how can I accept this so shamelessly!"

I smiled and said: "Take it, take it, you're my great benefactor!"

After saying this, I bowed to him, turned around, and happily ran off...

Once the Spring Festival passed, people gradually returned to Shenzhen from all directions, and Shenzhen regained its bustling atmosphere. The small hotel I stayed in quickly filled up, and the prices increased. This also meant that accommodation costs across Shenzhen had risen.

Li Juan said she was about to return to Shenzhen.

I asked the owner if I could extend my reservation until the end of the year at the original price.

I had learned to bargain.

I already understood that bargaining was one of life's most basic skills, something one must possess.

The owner said he would certainly welcome me to continue staying long-term, but keeping the original price was absolutely impossible—he would lose money. He had to pay rent too, and his family of six, young and old, relied on the income from renting out the small hotel to make a living!

His words put me in an awkward position.

Seeing I didn't speak, he added: "How about this: I'll charge you one day less rent each month. If you renew starting from June, for seven months I'll reduce it by three hundred and fifty yuan. What do you think?"

Back then, for a working girl, three hundred and fifty yuan was still a considerable sum. But averaged out, it only meant fifty yuan less per month.

Sometimes, bargaining is just a psychological game—petty calculations among ordinary people are exactly like this.

I said: "I was just joking with you. You're not having it easy either, don't give me any discount, the current price is fine."

"Miss Fang, you're considerate of us. Then you can stay long-term with peace of mind, we'll definitely serve you well."

He smiled with relief.

I added: "No more price increases next time."

He said: "It's a deal."

With more people staying, the small dining hall reopened. I rarely ate there. The guests were mostly men, few women; mostly over thirty-five, few under thirty-five. All were from rural areas, with heavy local accents. During meals, the small dining hall would become like a village gathering before a meeting, noisy and bustling, filled with mixed regional dialects. Those groups of three or five men together made me think repeatedly of my eldest sister's husband and second sister's husband—and those were unpleasant associations. Moreover, none of them paid attention to their table manners. Although I had grown accustomed to many things, I still wasn't used to sharing a table with strange men who had extremely unrefined eating habits.Washing up had become a problem, with the faucet often left running while people eager to use it queued up. By the time the sink area quieted down, the floor was covered in puddles and toothpaste splatters, a complete mess.

I had raised the issue with the boss, hoping he would address the poor public behavior.

The boss smiled bitterly and said, "Ultimately, it's because our shared washing space is too small! People don't mind the poor conditions here—they stay for the cheap rent. We should be thankful for that. How can we have the nerve to lecture them?"

I then understood the difficulties he faced as the contractor.

He, in turn, offered me a suggestion—after eating breakfast or dinner across the street, a ten-minute walk would lead to a place called "Clear Water Public Bathhouse," where a thorough bath cost only thirty yuan.

Going there daily would add nine hundred yuan to my monthly expenses!

I couldn’t afford such a luxury.

Instead, I simply woke up at five every day, washed up leisurely, then went back to bed for over two hours before getting up again after seven.

Shenzhen Special Zone News published a notice—another round of the "New Resident Exam" was about to begin. However, unlike what the older man had said, this one required applicants to first secure a position as a civil servant, work in a public institution, a state-owned enterprise, or a mid-level management role in a medium-to-large private enterprise. After that, they would take a unified "Resident Quality" exam. Those who passed would receive a resident permit, regardless of whether they owned property in Shenzhen.

To obtain a Shenzhen resident permit, I went through three interviews at three different companies. The last one was a packaging factory, a medium-sized private enterprise. The boss’s surname was Zhao, named Zhao Ziwei. He was of average height, with a round head and face, slightly plump, and dressed in a suit and tie.

He already had a personal secretary, considered the "chief secretary," who accompanied him to various social events. He was now looking to hire a writing secretary, the "second secretary."

He personally interviewed me—crossing one leg over the other, his foot constantly swaying, and opening with the question, "Do you like reading?"

I replied, "Yes."

And so the interview began.

"What kind of books do you like to read?"

"I enjoy reading books from all times and places."

I found it odd that he started the interview with books, as I could tell he wasn’t much of a reader himself—people who enjoy reading usually carry a certain scholarly air, but he had none of that.

He paused briefly before asking, "Have you read The Three Kingdoms?"

I answered casually, "Of course."

Truthfully, I hadn’t.

I believed there were very few women in their twenties in China who enjoyed reading The Three Kingdoms. If one did, her psychology and personality must be particularly peculiar.

I worried he would follow up by asking whether I had read Records of the Three Kingdoms or Romance of the Three Kingdoms. If he asked that, I wouldn’t be able to explain myself. I had never seen any version of Records of the Three Kingdoms, and I had only forced myself to watch a few episodes of the TV adaptation of Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

Instead, he asked, "Really?"

Without directly answering, I began reciting the titles of the chapters from the first chapter all the way to the eleventh, fluently and without hesitation.

"Alright, stop reciting."

He lowered his crossed foot to the ground.

I asked, "Would you like me to summarize the plot of each chapter?"

I could tell that, like me, he had only learned about The Three Kingdoms from the TV series.

He said, "No need. Do you have a one-inch photo? In color."I realized I was hired and secretly breathed a sigh of relief, shaking my head.

"Go get your photo taken. Bring it back in three days to process your work ID."

He seemed eager to attend to something else. As soon as he finished speaking, he stood up and walked out.

I remained seated, calling out to stop him, and calmly asked, "Aren’t we discussing the salary?" He replied just as calmly, "Let’s start with fifteen hundred. After the three-month probation period, we’ll decide based on your performance. I might still find you unfit for the role, so do your best."

Fifteen hundred was only three hundred yuan more than what I earned as a kitchen assistant. But three hundred extra was still extra! Any increase was enough to satisfy me. Besides, I needed to secure the job as soon as possible, so I didn’t say anything more.

Later, whenever I recalled that interview, I couldn’t help but find it amusing—back when I was in high school at Linjiang No. 1 Middle School, our teacher had required us to read all four of China’s classic novels. With academic pressure so intense, who had the time to read them all? Moreover, while these four classics are renowned, they aren’t necessarily novels everyone enjoys. Clever classmates came up with a way to deal with the teacher—memorize the chapter titles. By understanding the titles, they could roughly grasp the basic content. During my time at "Guishi," some senior students preparing for graduate school exams often used the same method—for a literary work, they’d memorize the author’s name, birthplace, birth and death years, even the year and publisher of the first edition, then skim a few critical essays. If it appeared on the exam, they could at least secure half the points. The real embarrassment came during oral exams, when teachers asked for details and they stumbled, unable to answer.

I used that trick to smoothly pass the job interview—a stroke of quick thinking in a moment of urgency.

Since leaving "Guishi," it had been a long time since I’d seen a man wearing glasses.

The photographer who took my photo wore glasses. He looked to be in his early thirties, refined and gentle, resembling Tony Leung. I’d seen several of Tony Leung’s films and had quite a fondness for that type of man.

Taking a one-inch passport photo should have been simple, but he made it unnecessarily complicated. He kept adjusting the lighting, asking me to turn my face left, then right; sometimes fixing the camera in place, other times holding it close to my face, clicking the shutter repeatedly. It became so irritating that my initial good impression of him faded significantly.

I urged him, "Please hurry up. I don’t need you to make me look perfect."

But he said, "You may not have high standards for your photo, but I can’t compromise on my own standards."

His small photo studio, from its storefront design to its interior decor, was quite distinctive. Anyone entering would immediately sense a distinctly modern artistic atmosphere. The walls were adorned with many framed portrait photos—men and women, old and young, in both color and black-and-white. Clearly, he displayed these as his own works, proving he indeed had some skill in photography.

But I wasn’t there to admire his work; I was there for a job photo. My patience was limited, and my growing dissatisfaction was becoming hard to conceal.

To get me to cooperate, he kept saying, "Don’t rush, don’t get upset. Calm your expression, we’re almost done, just a little more cooperation… The reason I’m being so meticulous is because your temperament is unique…"

His last two remarks finally made me lose my temper… I knew this much: if a woman isn’t pretty, men praise her temperament instead.

I snapped back at him, "Are you done yet or not?"He smiled and said, "Mission accomplished, it's over."

As I paid him and he wrote the receipt, the door opened and two public security officers entered. I immediately recognized them as the ones who had taken Yao Yun away. They also recognized me, eyeing me with surprise—as if asking, what is your relationship with him?

I said, "I'm just here to take photos."

But he asked, "What business brings you two comrades here?"

One of the officers said to me, "You should leave quickly. We have orders to seal this place."

The other officer said to him, "Someone reported you for hosting an erotic photography exhibition. You need to come with us to our superiors and explain yourself clearly."

The officer's expression was stern, his tone cold, emphasizing the word "erotic."

Upon hearing this, I rushed out the door and fled, having to find another photo studio to get my business done. Along the way, I felt both ashamed and resentful—ashamed that I had almost been deceived by that "wolf in sheep's clothing," and resentful that his disguise was quite skillful.

Zhao Ziwei was a boss who loved giving lectures. He would often gather the female workers together and deliver a loud "ideological education" speech. The first time I heard him lecture was in the morning, before the assembly line had started. He demanded that the female workers stand with their hands behind their backs, feet apart, chests out, and heads held high. They were rural girls with an average age in their twenties. Although I was their peer, and even younger than a few of them, I was not a rural girl. Moreover, I had attended two years of university, had a "Principal Mother" and a "Mayor Father" completely different from their parents, and had seen and heard more from a young age, often feeling much more mature than them. Most of them had just left home, were anxious about being far away in a strange place, generally timid and easily frightened, and would cry at the slightest difficulty.

The situation at the time was somewhat like a drill instructor addressing special forces female soldiers, leaving a deep impression on me.

"My surname is Zhao, the Zhao of Zhao Zilong, the Zi of Zhao Zilong, and the Wei meaning 'majestic.' Changshan's Zhao Zilong is my ancestor. Our Zhao clan takes pride in Zhao Yun. As a boss, I aim to carry forward the Zhao Yun Spirit and make it our corporate spirit! Although we are currently a factory in the packaging industry, we will expand into multiple fields in the future. Shenzhen is a city where business opportunities constantly emerge. I am someone who keeps an eye on everything and listens in all directions. In the future, I will lead you to grow and strengthen our factory, maximizing our profits! So, you must learn the Zhao Zilong Spirit..."

I listened and listened, but in the end, I never heard him explain what exactly the "Zhao Zilong Spirit" was. In fact, he never discussed it concretely—perhaps he himself didn't know.

He was a somewhat contradictory person.

For example, his catchphrase was "I, as the boss," but he forbade anyone in the factory from calling him "boss," insisting they all address him as "Mr. Zhao." So, the phrases I heard most often in the factory were "Good morning, Mr. Zhao," "Hello, Mr. Zhao," "Mr. Zhao's instructions," "Mr. Zhao this, Mr. Zhao that"—at the time, I felt as though I wasn't in a packaging factory but rather in a university or some cultural or academic institution.

Turning the packaging factory into a university promoting the "Zhao Yun Spirit" was a goal he was determined to achieve; yet his ultimate pursuit was profit maximization.

He was also a highly emotional person. Sometimes his mood was unstable, and the reasons for this were difficult for ordinary people like us to understand.It was his "Big Secretary"—that pretty sister from Sichuan—who told me that he once became extremely annoyed with himself for failing to kill a mosquito that had already sucked its fill of his blood, repeatedly exclaiming, "Failure! Failure! This has never happened before. In life, if you don't advance, you fall back, if you don't advance, you fall back!..."

He also once grew furious because the heavens thundered without bringing rain. Looking up at the dark, rolling clouds, he said, "Isn't this just playing tricks on people?! If I could, I'd set up a giant loudspeaker with a diameter of a thousand meters and curse it for a full day and night!"

I asked, "He's not a farmer, so why does he care so much about whether it rains or not?"

She said, "The heavens' performance just didn't suit his fancy. He hoped for a heavy downpour to cool things off, and the heavens disappointed him."

I asked again, "With a personality like his, how did he ever become a boss?"

She said, "He was just lucky. He has an older brother. Both of them were originally farmers. His brother took him along to work on a construction contracting team, and they earned two or three million. Back then, when the 'Shenzhen Stock Exchange' was established, his brother decided to take a gamble and bought a large amount of stock. He bet right and became wealthy, so he went into real estate. After a few years, he became a real estate tycoon. Naturally, his younger brother grew envious and refused to just earn a salary under his brother anymore. He made a fuss about suing his brother to split the assets. His brother had no choice but to give him ten million. Coincidentally, the original owner of this packaging factory wanted to sell, so he bought the factory for convenience."

"Big Secretary Sister" said she was originally the office director for his older brother, Zhao Laoda. The younger brother had borrowed her from his brother to help out. Once everything here stabilized, she would still return to Zhao Laoda's side. She said if I was willing, she would recommend me to take over as "Big Secretary" before she left.

I said I didn't have such long-term plans yet. For now, I was taking things one step at a time, deciding everything based on the situation.

The first important task Zhao Ziwei assigned me was to organize the so-called "Zhao Yun Spirit," summarize it, refine it, and condense it into a few slogans.

"You've already proven that you're well-versed in The Three Kingdoms..."

I had to interrupt him and correct him, "There's no such thing as The Three Kingdoms, only Records of the Three Kingdoms or Romance of the Three Kingdoms..."

I was afraid that if I didn't clarify this in time and some misunderstanding arose, he would blame everything on me.

He straightened his face and said, "As a secretary, don't be so nitpicky with me. I'm the boss, and you interrupted me before I finished speaking. That's called presumptuousness and is not allowed. Do you understand what presumptuousness means?"

I immediately corrected my position, lowered my gaze, and respectfully replied, "I understand. Please forgive me, Mr. Zhao."

He softened his tone and said, "Don't let it happen again! Whether it's Records or Romance, isn't the content pretty much the same? I believe that as long as you put your heart into it, you can complete the task well. I won't rush you, but don't drag it out too long either. Do it well, and you'll get promoted faster."

Turns out, even he was rather confused about the "Zhao Yun Spirit" he had proposed.

In the following days, I focused all my energy on reading Romance of the Three Kingdoms. I forced myself through a day of reading but still couldn’t get into it, so I simply found tapes to watch the TV series, focusing only on the episodes related to Zhao Yun. After watching, I summarized the "Zhao Yun Spirit" as "One Big, Two Upright, Three Unconcerned." To elaborate: "One Big" refers to having a broad perspective when assessing situations—consider Zhao Yun, who was originally a beloved general under Yuan Shao and was lent by Yuan Shao to Liu Bei. Zhao Yun recognized that Yuan Shao was ambitious but lacked talent and had a narrow mind, while Liu Bei seemed more capable of achieving great things. Thus, he never returned and steadfastly followed Liu Bei without regret. "Two Upright" means being able to clearly and correctly position relationships—although Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei all referred to him as the "fourth brother," he understood that he had not sworn brotherhood with the three of them and was a latecomer to the group. He never harbored unrealistic expectations about his relationships, which is the "first upright." He risked his life to rescue A Dou amidst the chaos of the Battle of Changban, a feat of immense merit, yet he never boasted about his achievements and remained exceptionally humble, which is the "second upright." "Three Unconcerned" refers to not minding the difficulty of tasks, not caring about the order of credit, and not worrying about how others judged his decision to "betray Yuan Shao and remain loyal to Liu Bei"...

As I wrote, I inwardly mocked myself—what the hell kind of proper job is this? Is it worth wasting brain cells on something like this? What kind of nonsense is this!

Unconsciously, I had already picked up the bad habit of "Applied National Swearing." However, I hadn’t reached the point of applying it at any given moment, though I had already applied it many times in my mind. My experience was that occasionally applying "National Swearing" helped relieve stress. Sometimes, stress wasn’t caused by the actual difficulty of the work but by the sheer garbage nature of certain tasks. To secure early regularization, to receive my regularized salary sooner, and most importantly, to become a Shenzhen resident as soon as possible, my work attitude was both earnest and opportunistic, both serious and casual.

I completed the task in just a few days and formally submitted it to "Mr. Zhao" for review on the same day.

After reading it, he rubbed his hands together with satisfaction and said, "Good, very good, excellent. What’s good about it is that 'One Big, Two Upright, Three Unconcerned' is well-summarized and also aligns well with the corporate culture of 'Treat the Factory as Home, Love the Factory as Family'..."

At the time, "Big Secretary Sister" was also present.

"Yuan Shao’s forces were much stronger than Liu Bei’s at the time, but that was a temporary strength, a superficial phenomenon. Liu Bei had staying power, which Cao Cao was the first to recognize, hence his discussion of heroes with Liu Bei over wine. Zhao Yun also saw this, which is why he severed ties with Yuan Shao and wholeheartedly followed Liu Bei thereafter. Zhao Yun was a military general, yet his insight aligned with Cao Cao’s. Isn’t it reasonable to summarize this as 'One Big'?..."

At the end of his commentary, Mr. Zhao turned his head and asked "Big Secretary Sister" a question.

"Big Secretary Sister’s" face suddenly flushed, and she retorted, "Why ask me? I don’t understand!"

I didn’t think Mr. Zhao was using the topic as a pretext to deliberately needle her about how he had "borrowed" "Big Secretary Sister" from his brother. But even if the speaker had no such intention, the listener might interpret it differently!

As a result, I was put in an awkward position.

Mr. Zhao was so pleased that he immediately agreed to my early regularization and even awarded me his computer. I had heard from "Big Secretary Sister" that he had long wanted to replace it with a new one, so this was merely a gesture of convenience.

After I left Mr. Zhao’s office carrying the computer, "Big Secretary Sister" followed me out and called me to a stop.At the corner of the hallway, she said irritably, "You really know how to make things up!"

I defended myself, "Sis, you've misunderstood. I absolutely didn't—"

She cut me off, her willow-like eyebrows furrowed, almond-shaped eyes wide open, her face flushed with anger as she scolded me, "What are you still trying to argue? Your 'One Big, Two Upright' was clearly aimed at my relationship with the two brothers! Do you think I'm an idiot who doesn't get it? Let me tell you, it's you who needs to get your priorities straight! Do you really think he can't do without a writing secretary? Don't flatter yourself. He hired you only because his brother has one, so he thinks he must have one too. To him, you're just like a boss wearing a wristwatch—not to tell time, but to show off his status!"

"And what the hell do you mean to him?"

I coldly retorted with this line.

"We'll see!"

She was taken aback for a moment, tossed out these words, and stormed off, suppressing her anger.

Finally, I had put the "National Swearing" to practical use again, and my heart felt light.

After that, I continued with that "Garbage Work." No matter how garbage it was, I had to finish it. The pressure was gone from what followed, or rather, being promoted early and getting a computer made the garbage nature of the work seem less detestable—I found a printing shop and designed various slogans for "One Big, Two Upright, Three Unconcerned," posting them all over the factory grounds and office building. I also printed a thousand illustrated manuals to distribute to the office staff and female workers in the workshops. During this time, the sarcastic remarks from "Big Secretary Sister" were unavoidable. I endured what I could, and when I was truly furious, I would retort a few words or give her a taste of her own medicine. In my words and actions, I gradually became more like Li Juan and Qian Qian. But I set a principle for myself: I would never report her to Mr. Zhao—even though a misunderstanding had arisen, precisely because it was a misunderstanding, I believed there would be a time to resolve it. If I were to tattle on her, wouldn’t that just escalate the conflict? Fortunately, I didn’t need to work overtime, which allowed me to cherish my after-work hours for necessary review, preparing for the exam to swap my temporary residence permit for a permanent one.

On the day the results were posted in mid-June, I was unsurprisingly on the list. After all, I had studied in key schools from elementary through high school, and I even had two years of university education as a foundation; a college-level classification exam naturally couldn’t stump me. Shenzhen was a special economic zone, which meant it had always placed great emphasis on the quality of its population structure since its founding. Through that exam, it could first retain high-quality talent from all walks of life.

Unexpectedly, I saw the name "Yao Yun" on the list and couldn’t help but feel a surge of joy. Yes, it was unmistakably those two characters, and the age and hometown matched—could it really be her?

There were far too many cases of people sharing the same name.

But how I hoped that the name represented the Yao Yun I knew!

Even though she had disappeared from my life without a trace, without even any feedback from the money I sent on her behalf, I still thought of her often. The smoother my work life became, the more I would think of her. And whenever I thought of her during the day, I would dream of her at night, and the next morning, I would imagine a pair of red high heels outside the small window again.

I firmly believed she was a good woman.She candidly told me so many things she didn't need to tell me and shouldn't have told me, proving she viewed relationships between people as quite simple—far simpler than I did. Even I had sensed that the boss and his wife might do something unfavorable to her, yet she never suspected it was her fellow townsfolk who reported her until the day she was taken away. How could a woman with such a "big sister" nature fundamentally be a bad person? If "Big Secretary Sister" were her, that kind of misunderstanding would never have arisen. Even if it did, a simple explanation would have cleared it up immediately.

"It's her, it must be her! She said she graduated from a technical school, so she must have passed the exam too..."

As I turned to leave, I couldn't help but convince myself in my heart that it was undoubtedly her.

That was the first time I shed tears for someone else's fate, and the first time I prayed for someone else's destiny...

Li Juan hadn't returned yet.

I missed her so much, longing for her to stand before me soon, just like yearning to see an elder sister.

Communication had brought us even closer.

My passing the exam also made Mr. Zhao very happy, and he praised me publicly. In any organization or company, the more people who pass such exams, the more employees with resident certificates there are, which is enough to prove that the overall quality of the staff is relatively high, naturally bringing glory to the leaders or bosses.

I expressed to him my desire to work in the workshop. At the time, the Chief Line Leader managing the workshop had resigned, which presented an opportunity for me—one not to be missed.

My reasoning was that my two years of university studies had focused on business management, and I had passed the exam in the same field, hoping he would help me realize my ideal of applying what I had learned. The real reason, however, was that I simply couldn't bring myself to respect him. He lightly scratched his cheek, pondered for a moment, and then glanced sideways at me, asking what conditions I had.

I said I had no conditions; my salary could remain unchanged, and I was willing to handle secretarial work whenever he requested.

He couldn't hold back a smile, saying cheerfully, "Alright, alright, young people should challenge themselves more. If I didn't support you, wouldn't that be my fault?"

And so, I became the Chief Line Leader.

There were four assembly lines in the workshop, each with six workers on either side, and each line had its own "Line Leader." The role of "Chief Line Leader" was equivalent to that of a workshop supervisor, but the girls often referred to me as "Chief Leader"—it just rolled off the tongue more easily.

The first time I was called "Chief Leader," I felt a bit disoriented, as if I had suddenly and inexplicably become a high-ranking general. After hearing it often enough, that dreamlike feeling vanished entirely.

Line Leaders were not exempt from production work; they also had to sit by the assembly lines and get their hands dirty, though they earned a bit more. As the Chief Leader, I was exempt from production duties, but my job required me to stay in the workshop during working hours, spot-checking quality and overseeing the performance of the female workers—essentially acting as a supervisor. This, however, didn't give me a particularly good feeling.The four line leaders all harbored competitive ambitions in their hearts—a line leader who doesn’t aspire to become the Chief Leader is not a good line leader. However, if they were solely focused on replacing the Chief Leader, it would not only breed misguided thoughts but also lead to internal scheming and rivalry, with surface harmony masking underlying discord, ultimately undermining unity. Once the former Chief Leader left, the ambitions of the four line leaders were laid bare, each believing they were the most qualified for promotion. Moreover, each had their own supporters. The workshop quickly became divided into factions, with shifting alliances and hidden tensions. I was like Cheng Yaojin appearing out of nowhere, or a "dark horse," catching them off guard. I not only dashed their hopes but also inadvertently became their "common enemy." Of course, no one dared to openly challenge me. As long as I acted fairly, the authority of the Chief Leader was not something they could simply disregard.

I didn’t forbid them from calling me Chief Leader. Since "Chief Leader" rolled off the tongue more easily than "Chief Line Leader," why insist they change their wording?

The forty-eight girls came from several provinces, naturally forming "sisterhood gangs" based on shared hometowns. Those from provinces with fewer representatives inevitably felt the pressure of hometown ties. I respected these hometown bonds but opposed the formation of "local cliques." To prevent the emergence of such cliques, I restructured the personnel of the four assembly lines—if one line had more girls from a particular province, I assigned a line leader from another province to oversee it. This prevented the line leaders from exerting psychological control over their fellow provincial sisters, keeping hometown ties as just that, without evolving into factions.

My approach stirred discontent.

Another measure I took soon dispelled that discontent—I proposed establishing a Mutual Aid Fund and took the lead by contributing two thousand yuan. The four line leaders had no choice but to join, each contributing two or three hundred yuan. After all, who hasn’t faced a situation where money was urgently needed? This proposal gained unanimous support, and within two days, over seven thousand yuan was raised. I announced that the borrowing rules would be collectively formulated by everyone, with the four line leaders jointly managing the fund. I would neither interfere nor intervene. The line leaders felt my trust in them and began to reciprocate by upholding my authority.

I didn’t remain idle in the workshop.

Whenever I noticed someone looking unwell or slowing down, I would step in to relieve them, allowing them to rest. Most girls wouldn’t take leave for minor ailments like headaches or colds, and some experienced strong reactions before their menstrual cycles—as the Chief Leader, I had to show them consideration.

Two months later, I had blended in seamlessly with the girls. The benefit of this was that they no longer saw me as a "taskmaster," but it also brought its own problems—with more jokes and banter among us, unforeseen complications inevitably arose.

During a break one day, a girl asked me if Zhao Yun had a wife.

This question was clearly disrespectful—Zhao Yun, also known as Zhao Zilong, was the spiritual embodiment of our factory and the idol revered by Mr. Zhao. When referring to his spouse, one should use the term "Madam," not "wife."

I said that as far as I knew, neither Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Records of the Three Kingdoms, nor any other official historical records about the Three Kingdoms mentioned whether he was formally married or who his wife was. Some storytellers have mentioned him having a wife, but such tales cannot be taken as reliable sources.

"Exactly! I’ve only heard that Guan Yu had a son named Guan Ping, and Zhang Fei had a son named Zhang Bao. I’ve never heard of Zhao Yun having a son or what his name might be."

I hadn’t expected that some of the girls knew quite a bit about the Three Kingdoms.Then everyone started chattering and discussing all at once.

"What did she mean by asking that?"

"Don't you get it? If Zhao Zilong had no wife, then he had no biological sons; fundamentally speaking, the Zhao family branch of Zhao Laoer wouldn't have the slightest connection to Zhao Zilong—isn't that just forcing a link?"

"Who's Zhao Laoer?"

"Well... some things shouldn't be repeated. Think about it yourself!"

"Oh... I see, I see..."

"Even if Zhao Yun had sons, even if he had two, when they grew up, they'd be like their father, fighting here and there. Maybe they'd die before even getting the chance to marry..."

"Yeah, Guan Yu's son died that way, and Zhang Fei's son died that way too."

The girl who knew quite a bit about the Three Kingdoms suddenly threw in another remark.

And so the discussion continued.

"After all this talk, do you think Zhao Yun back then might have been without heirs?"

"Those few of them still want to prove..."

"Want to prove what?"

"Still want to prove that Zhao Laoer..."

"Stop! No one is allowed to talk about this topic anymore. I'm announcing a rule: from now on, during breaks, no one is allowed to discuss topics related to the surname 'Zhao.' Starting tomorrow at noon, during breaks, we'll take turns singing. Whoever sings well, I'll treat them to ice cream."

I had to put a stop to it. If I didn't, who knows what reckless things they might say next. As the Chief Leader, it was clearly wrong for me to let it go unchecked. But I understood why they were acting that way. I was fairly satisfied with my salary; I had no family burdens. As long as the work went smoothly, earning a bit more or less wasn't my top priority. But for those girls, it was different. Behind them—their rural homes—had all sorts of difficulties that could only be solved with money. Even if it was just a matter of earning two or three hundred yuan more or less, they cared deeply. Some of them weren't even eighteen yet. If not forced by circumstances, what parents would willingly send their underage daughters to work across provinces? And their wages were relatively low compared to Shenzhen's standards. Yet they didn't dare resign easily; Mr. Zhao seemed to have planted informants among them. As soon as anyone showed signs of planning to quit over low pay, often before they even made the decision, they'd be singled out for mistakes and fired, with the dismissal notice posted outside the factory gate—essentially a public announcement to the outside world, clearly intended to affect their chances of finding another job.

I was also a bit afraid that Zhao Laoer—that scoundrel—might pull the same trick on me.

The next day during the lunch break, Zhao Laoer—no, Mr. Zhao—appeared in the workshop, his face unable to hide his anger.

He ordered me to stand beside him and commanded the girls to line up in four rows, two on each side. Then, with his hands clasped behind his back, he paced back and forth among the four rows of girls and began his lecture.

"Rebellion, rebellion! Do you all want to rebel against me? I gave you jobs, allowed you to earn a wage, and not only are you ungrateful, but you collectively seize on a topic to make insinuations, hint at things, criticize indirectly, and behind my back, you belittle me, curse me. Do you think I'm reluctant to fire all of you? What loss would firing you be to me? None at all! In China today, everywhere lacks money—money makes you the boss—but everywhere has no shortage of people. If I fire you today, in three days, this workshop will be fully staffed again!..."

The girls hung their heads one by one, as silent as cicadas in winter.He finally walked up to me, his hands shifting from behind his back to clasped in front, legs spread apart, glaring at me fiercely as he said, "Now, I demand that you point out each and every person who spoke ill of me behind my back yesterday. If you refuse, then—get out."

Without hesitation, I pointed and said, "Her, her, and her..."

He turned and glanced disdainfully at the three girls, then said to me, "We agreed beforehand that you’d also take on secretarial duties when necessary. They spoke ill of me, and you didn’t stop them in time. Your performance was also disgraceful. I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself—go write the dismissal notice immediately and post it outside the factory gate."

I asked calmly, "On what grounds?"

He roared, "What the hell are you pretending not to know? Do I need to tell you the grounds?"

I replied calmly, "What the hell are you yelling at me for? No matter who reported this to you, you shouldn’t just take their word for it. If I, as the 'Chief Line Leader,' am not just a figurehead you appointed, you should at least ask me about the situation first instead of storming in here, making people stand as punishment, and scolding them."

He blinked a few times, arguing stubbornly, "Should it be the workers sitting while I, the boss, stand alone when addressing them? If both the workers and I are standing, does that mean I’m punishing them by making them stand?"

"Of course not. Under normal circumstances, if you sit and speak while all the workers stand and listen, there’s no need to express dissatisfaction. But the current situation is clearly abnormal. You’re clearly here to vent your anger, so you are indirectly punishing them by making them stand. Therefore, I not only have the right to express dissatisfaction on their behalf but also on my own, and I have the right to protest."

Although my tone was calm, my words carried no weakness—every sentence was a rebuttal. At that moment, I resembled "Principal Mother" and "Mayor Father." My adoptive parents often hosted superiors or subordinates at home, engaging in serious discussions and debating right and wrong. I clearly remember one time when my adoptive father argued so fiercely with an uncle from the provincial government that he even slammed the table. Even between my adoptive parents, when debating or refuting each other, their words were often sharp and pointed.

I once criticized "Mayor Father" for not needing to argue with "Principal Mother" like that.

But he taught me in return, "Reason is the only standard in this world that makes people equal. Your mother and I are both in positions of authority. When we argue about right and wrong, it’s for each other’s good. Don’t worry, your mother understands this and won’t get angry with me, nor will I with her. The more you debate, the clearer the truth becomes!"

Faced with the aggressive Zhao Ziwei, I had no choice but to act like my adoptive parents—the difference was, the girls and I were not in the right; Zhao Ziwei was. Rather than saying he was arguing stubbornly, it was more accurate to say I was. Already lacking justification, if I didn’t argue stubbornly, wouldn’t the girls and I be left with nothing?

"Fang Wanzhi, you’re something else, aren’t you? Daring to defy me, the boss, in public! Then answer me this: am I, Zhao Ziwei, just looking for trouble and blaming people for no reason?"

For the sake of propriety and face, Zhao Ziwei could no longer yell at me and had no choice but to debate with me. He knew the truth was on his side and clearly wanted to argue until I was left speechless.

But he was like a bad card player—even with a good hand, he’d lose miserably. When he was clearly in the right, the more he talked, the more he’d give others an opening.I immediately seized the opportunity to continue refuting: "Mr. Zhao, what is a crime? What crime have I and they committed? What right do you have to accuse us of any crime? No one has the authority to accuse others except a judge. Moreover, a judge must base convictions on the law. Once he leaves the courtroom and takes off his judicial robes, he loses that authority as well. Do you think being a boss means you represent the law?"

Zhao Ziwei blinked a few more times, then suddenly snorted with a cold laugh. "Don't try to play the trick of shifting concepts with me. I can easily see through such tactics. I don't have time to argue about anything else with you. I'll just ask you one thing—dare you say they didn't disparage me yesterday at noon?"

By then, I had already prepared my countermeasure.

I softened my tone and spoke calmly and composedly—"One Big, Two Upright, Three Unconcerned"—which sparked the girls' keen interest in matters of the Three Kingdoms, leading them to spontaneously discuss it during their break. The question that intrigued them most was—what kind of woman was Zhao Zilong's wife? It was perfectly normal for the girls to be curious about this.

Pointing at the three girls who looked as if disaster had struck, I said, "Her, her, her—I think these three deserve praise. They possess a spirit of digging deep for answers, a valuable habit for working girls. And precisely because of their persistence, I was prompted to look up information after work and finally clarify Zhao Zilong's marital status and whether he had descendants..."

I deliberately kept them in suspense, stopping just as I reached the key point.

Zhao Ziwei, whose curiosity was piqued, also softened his tone and urged repeatedly, "Go on, go on..."

So I laid out the character relationships from the storytelling, trying to make it as engaging as possible for him.

Zhao Ziwei grew delighted as he listened, rubbing his hands together and saying, "Well then, I’ll give you another writing task. Organize what you just said into a proper document, print it out, and distribute it to everyone in the factory in a few days. First, give me a copy—I want to read it as soon as possible..."

When he was happy, he would rub his hands together, like a hawkish villain chuckling coldly before committing murder.

I could tell he had genuinely turned anger into joy; I suspected the question of whether Zhao Zilong had descendants had troubled him too. If I could provide evidence that he did, then his claim of being Zhao Zilong's descendant would be even more credible, and his anecdotes about Zhao Zilong would become richer—I had heard from his "Big Secretary" that he was ambitiously planning to establish something like a "Zhao Zilong Research Society."

He even became momentarily carried away, taking out his phone to instruct his "Big Secretary": "Contact the seller and have them deliver a few boxes of ice cream to the cafeteria at noon—the best kind. Give two to each person in the workshop, and one to each person in the office and support staff."

Ever since the irreparable misunderstanding with his "Big Secretary" over "One Big, Two Upright, Three Unconcerned," that Sichuan girl was no longer "Big Secretary Sister" in my mind, but merely a vase he had borrowed from his brother.

After giving his instructions, he turned to the girls and said, "A misunderstanding, a huge misunderstanding! Such misunderstandings won’t happen again."

As he turned to leave, I stopped him.

I said, "You can’t just walk away like that. You haven’t apologized to me yet."

"Apologize? To you... apologize?"

He wore an expression of "shocked disbelief."

I said, "You cursed at me with 'damn it,' so you must apologize."

"Really?"—he glanced at the girls and asked, "Did I curse at her like that?"

The girls nodded silently.

"'Damn it' has almost become a common phrase for many Chinese people. It can’t really be considered a curse, can it?"

He argued slyly.

I said, "If that’s what you think, then you don’t have to apologize. I’ll just say those three words to you now, and we’ll be even."

He hesitated, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

I insisted firmly, "An apology is more civilized. If you don’t, I’ll report you to the city’s labor union for publicly insulting an employee—and that will make headlines."He was taken aback for a moment, then suddenly burst into hearty laughter. After laughing, he said with a serious expression, "You, you, you little Fang, aren't you being too petty? Alright, alright, they can bear witness—I solemnly apologize to you: I'm sorry, please forgive me."

Not only did he say that, but he also bowed to me like a gentleman.

After he left the workshop, the girls immediately surrounded me, embracing me one after another.

One of the three girls cried as she hugged me and pleaded, "Sister Fang, you must always be our Chief Leader!"

To my adoptive father and adoptive mother, I was certainly important, but I had never felt that I was important to others as well.

That girl's words made me feel, at that moment, as if I had suddenly become extraordinary.

The feeling of being extraordinary was intoxicating.

Yet I didn’t say anything to make a statement, only comforting them with phrases like "it’s nothing" and "don’t let it ruin the mood."

I wouldn’t leave this factory for the time being because I hadn’t yet obtained a residence permit. To get a residence permit, you needed a letter of introduction from your workplace. No matter who you were, if you hadn’t worked at a unit for more than six months, no workplace would issue such a letter—and even if they did, it would be useless.

I decided to leave this factory as soon as I got my residence permit.

Although the girls clearly had developed a sense of dependence on me, I had no intention of acting as their "guardian angel."

No, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but that it was simply impossible.

To be someone’s "guardian angel," you needed the ability to do so!

I knew very well that I had none at all.

I myself often lived in indescribable unease! How could I not need a "guardian angel" too!

Zhao Ziwei never ate in the cafeteria, and his "chief secretary," benefiting from his privilege, rarely showed up there either.

But that noon, he made an exception and ate in the cafeteria, so his "chief secretary" also appeared there.

And as luck would have it, he walked over with his tray to my table. As soon as he sat down, the other girls picked up their trays and left.

Unperturbed, he continued discussing Zhao Zilong’s marriage matters with me in a loud voice.

I also pretended to be unperturbed, doing my best to answer every question.

I told him that Zhao Yun once had the chance to marry a beautiful woman, but because she was the sister-in-law of a surrendered enemy official, Zhao Yun politely declined out of consideration for "political" influence...

He slapped the table and exclaimed loudly, "My ancestor, Zhao Ziwei, was truly a hero who could resist the temptation of beauty! What kind of spirit is that? The spirit of always considering the bigger picture! How admirable, Zhao Yun! How magnificent, Zilong! If we all learn from his spirit, our little factory will surely grow bigger and stronger, and go public soon!..."

At that moment, the cafeteria fell silent, and the "vase" once again cast a jealous and resentful glance toward my table.

Those who received ice cream, though they understood they were benefiting from the female workers, didn’t know exactly why they were benefiting.

When the girls and I returned to the workshop, one of them muttered, "What does going public have to do with us? It’s not like we’ll all get shares!"

I thought to myself, she had a point—Zhao Laoer’s interests and theirs, including mine, were simply not on the same level. When his interests were maximized, ours might actually be minimized!

Yes—it was "us." Over those two days, I saw clearly that I and those girls had unknowingly become "a group."In the following days, I kept trying to figure out who among them was Zhao Laoer's hidden informant, but I couldn't come to any conclusion—to me, they all seemed like equally simple and timid country girls. None of them were as bold, righteous, and chivalrous as Li Juan, nor were any as worldly-wise as Qian Qian. Not even one was as straightforward as Yao Yun. Their simplicity had been wounded or tainted to varying degrees, and while timid, each had their own little tricks for navigating life.

It seemed to me that they and "Zhao Laoer" were a "matched set," much like how a certain kind of boss drives a certain kind of car.

No wonder then, that even I, who also needed protection, ended up being seen as their "guardian angel."

After secretly observing for a few days with no results, I simply gave up. Whoever it was, so be it.

What workplace doesn’t have people who love to tattle, finding favor by acting as informants? If trouble arises again, we’ll deal with it then! I didn’t have the authority to organize mutual denunciations in the workshop, to launch a "deep dig" or a "cleanup." Even if I had that power, I wouldn’t do such a thing. What, do I have nothing better to do?

With that thought, my mind eased, and I felt at peace.