pertwk Chapter 14 Are you a rich second-generation?
Chapter 14 Are you a rich second-generation?
"Can't you even part with 20 yuan?"
"Why are you arguing with me? I didn't set the rules."
"That 20 yuan doesn't even go into my pocket. I make 2800 a month and get yelled at by the boss every day..."
"Go ahead and hit them. The regulators only punish the boss anyway; those unscrupulous businessmen deserve it!"
The sales clerk's head was covered in bubbles, one after another, which made Wang Lang laugh.
"If you ask me, just forget about the 20 yuan; it won't go into your pocket anyway," Wang Lang said, going against the shop assistant's wishes.
The shop assistant froze, saying nothing, but the bubbles above her head were flashing wildly:
Ah—ah—ah—
???
Did I just speak? Did I say what was on my mind?
"Maybe...it must be because I'm too tired. That damn boss hasn't given me a day off in half a month."
Wang Lang pursed his lips, trying his best to suppress a smile: "You haven't had a day off in half a month, have you? Stop wasting your time with us, wouldn't it be better to sit down and play on your phone for a while?"
Ah—help—
The cashier's mouth gaped open in an "Oh!" shape, her eyes widened, and she was internally screaming.
"Hmm?" Now it was Wang Lang's turn to be curious. The speech bubble above the cashier's head wasn't displaying a string of text, but an animated image:
Countless shop assistants were running simultaneously across the African savanna, shaking their heads frantically as their hair whipped across their faces, waving their hands and shouting: "Ah—help—"
Wang Lang's facial expression control was about to break down; he tried to tuck his lips down several times but almost couldn't.
After recalling countless painful memories, Wang Lang finally suppressed his emotions and cleared his throat:
"Ahem—if the regulators fine your boss, your boss might fine you in return, and might even cancel your compensatory time off."
"Should I call this regulatory hotline... or not?"
Wang Lang flipped his phone over in his palm, placing it face down on the counter like a chess piece being placed on a chessboard.
In his eyes, five parts were the understanding that he had seen through the other party's hand, three parts were the empathy that "we are all working people", and two parts were the confidence that he could gently quell the humiliation that Little Fatty had just felt.
The cashier stared at Wang Lang's face for two seconds, then her shoulders slumped down by half an inch. She pursed her dry lips, and for the first time, a completely human expression appeared on her face.
This reminded Wang Lang of the Sichuan Opera face-changing scene, where the Sichuan Opera actor removes the last mask to reveal a living face.
Whether your face is beautiful or ugly, being alive is always better than wearing a mask.
"Sir..." the receptionist began, swallowing hard, "The cost of supplies... never mind, I'll waive it for you."
When she said this, her mouth and eyes finally came together—there was no fake smile, no eye roll, only a kind of weariness that came from being seen through and no longer bothering to pretend.
Wang Lang put his phone back in his pocket and patted Little Fatty on the shoulder: "Let's go."
……
Emerging from the archery range, the air conditioning in the mall hadn't quite dissipated. As soon as the elevator doors opened, the night breeze of the mountain city rushed in. Little Fatty took a deep breath, feeling the pent-up frustration that had been building up in his chest all afternoon finally lifted a bit from his chest by the wind.
Wang Lang followed behind him, barely saying a word. When they reached the flowerbed at the mall entrance, Little Fatty suddenly stopped.
"Brother Lang," he called out.
Little Fatty stood under the streetlight, his hand still wrapped with the shoelaces he had borrowed for free from the archery range, which he had wrapped around his fingers several times until his fingertips turned white.
"You know, it's the same at the company. Lai Ge Bao makes me write improvement reports, makes me organize files, and if I don't finish by Friday, I'm fired." Little Fatty kicked a pebble into the flower bed. "The archery range was the same thing just now. I booked a day in advance and they still charged for supplies, and then they came out with 'the final interpretation right belongs to this store'."
"Then...is it my problem?"
Beneath the surface of the Zuan people lies this kind of roundabout internal strife—after cursing others, they turn around and start cursing themselves.
Wang Lang pondered the question several times in his mind, unsure how to answer, so he could only comfort him by saying, "Actually, you're quite brave. You've exposed all of Lai Ge Bao's dirty secrets."
"I...I was also encouraged by you," the chubby boy said hesitantly.
Wang Lang asked, puzzled, "Mine?"
"That noon... I saw you slap Lai Ge Bao across the face." Little Fatty lowered his head, lost in memories: "Then I wondered, do I dare? But I even hesitated for a long time before I could publicly criticize him in a meeting."
The chubby boy looked up at Wang Lang: "Brother Lang, are you a rich kid?"
"no."
The chubby boy then asked, "So, is your family involved in government affairs?"
"no."
"Then...why am I afraid? What am I lacking?"
Wang Lang thought to himself, "I can make money and get rewards from drawing lucky draw items. If I had to say what Little Fatty is missing, it would be a system."
"You don't lack anything; in fact, you have more than you need." Wang Lang couldn't reveal the existence of the system, but he was speaking from the heart.
"What's extra?" Little Fatty frowned, full of doubt.
Wang Lang leaned against the flower bed and said sincerely, "You have many things that Lai Ge Bao could never learn in his entire life, and some things that he may have given up on his own."
"You have principles, you don't drag others down, you have empathy, and although you sometimes curse fiercely, you are sincere."
"Is...is that so?" This was the first time in Little Fatty's life that someone had praised him to his face.
In the past, Little Fatty had never heard a single compliment given just for himself.
Either the teacher says: "The children in our class are all excellent."
Either the leader says: Your group is alright.
Either your teammates yell in the game: "That was a great play!"
Even his parents' praise didn't stick to him; he mostly remembered the praise from other people's children.
"Brother Lang, you're the first person to realize my... talent," Little Fatty said, laughing at himself.
Wang Lang laughed and scolded, "When it comes to cursing, you're a genius."
A gentle evening breeze blew across the river, carrying the aroma of hot pot from the neighborhood hot pot restaurant, rustling the bougainvillea in the flowerbeds. In the distance, a light rail lined the mountainside, its warm yellow light trailing behind, like a train soaring through the air towards the sky.
"So what are your plans for your next job?" Wang Lang asked a practical question before parting.
The chubby boy shrugged and spread his hands: "Let's take it one step at a time."
"I think anywhere is better than working under Lai Ge Bao," Little Fatty added. "What future can you possibly have following him?!"
Wang Lang nodded. Little Fatty was right—staying in Group Four for too long would either turn you into a rascal or make you slick with grease.
Thinking of this, Wang Lang suddenly felt a pang of emotion: What about himself? What future could he possibly have as Lai Ge Bao's subordinate?
"Brother Lang, if you were the team leader, I wouldn't resign."
These words suddenly hit him, and Wang Lang felt as if something had struck his chest. He recalled the scene two days ago when he was retaliated against by Lai Ge Bao and had spent the whole afternoon running around.
At that time, he told himself that if the workplace was a game instance where a hundred demons roamed at night, he would be an angel among the devils. It was a bit childish and a bit chaotic: his shirt was wet and then dried, and he was angry when he said this, but after he calmed down, he didn't know what to do.
Yeah... how do you define an angel among devils?
Now Wang Lang has vaguely found his direction: to become a team leader, a manager, a boss... until he exposes scoundrels like Lai Ge Bao and their unspoken rules.
A few days earlier, Wang Lang would have just smiled wryly at the idea, but now it's different: the words "team leader" had never appeared in Wang Lang's mind before, but now they have become a thought, quietly settling in Wang Lang's heart.
"Brother Lang, thank you for keeping me company all day. Go home early." Little Fatty saw that Wang Lang was silent and thought that Wang Lang was tired.
Across from the mall was the light rail station. Little Fatty didn't say anything more, and disappeared into the station entrance in a few quick steps.
Wang Lang stretched and looked up at the sky. The night sky over the mountain city was starless, only the rows of lights from the office buildings across the street were on. He used to find these lights glaring, but tonight, after looking at them for a while, he inexplicably found one of them quite pleasing to the eye. That light… would be lit for him sooner or later.