Chapter 15 — 8 Million Dividend Does Not Include Me, No One Knows I Own Tens of Millions of Yuan

No one spoke up. But I heard a few very strong breathing sounds. The person in charge of human resources had red eyes. He worked here for nearly twenty years. He himself made that dismissal list. And he also understands each family behind each name. His voice choked.

"I will inform you immediately."

When the meeting room door closes. I suddenly felt relieved. First time in many days. I know I'm doing the right thing. Not because of the Lam family. Not because of parents. Not because I want to prove anything. I saved the factory. Just because there are people who have never hurt me. Old Truong. Aunt Luu is in the cafeteria. The workers used to carry me as a child. People who spent their youth in this place. I don't want them to become sacrifices for other people's mistakes. The meeting ended. Everyone left one by one. Only me and dad left. Late afternoon sunlight penetrates through the glass window. Extending the shadows of two people on the floor. He looked at me for a long time. It was like the first time I really saw this girl clearly. He slowly stood up. Go to the old filing cabinet in the corner of the room. Open the bottom drawer. Take out a small wooden box. I recognized it immediately. That's not company stuff. It's personal stuff. He held the box in his hand. Fingertips gently stroked the old wooden surface. It took a long time to come back. His eyes were full of complexity. His voice was hoarse.

"There's something..."

"I think it's time to give it back to you."

He put the box down in front of me. The wooden box rested on the table. The late afternoon sunlight shines on the box's surface, causing faint scratches to appear on the old paint layer. I looked at it for a long time. Don't understand why. The heart beats faster than usual. Dad stood opposite. His back seems to be much more bent than the day I left home. The man who used to always sit in the chair position, always using a tone that did not allow anyone to refute, is now like an old man anxiously waiting for something.

"A long time ago."

He spoke up.

"But Dad never had a chance to give it to me."

I reached out to open the box. The lid of the box pops up very lightly. There is no gold or silver inside. No shares. There are also no valuable documents. There are only a few very old items. But the moment I saw them, I was dumbfounded. Located on top is the high school Mathematical Olympiad medal. I thought it was thrown away. But now it's right in front of our eyes. The strap has been replaced. The medal's face is wiped clean. Even covered with a transparent protective bag. Below are old photos. Primary school graduation photo. Photo received city level award. Photo taken with a team of excellent students. The corners of the photo were folded. Wrinkles appeared. All have been carefully restored. I slowly picked up each photo. Fingers suddenly trembled slightly. There are some photos that even I forgot about their existence. However, it is preserved almost intact. At the bottom is a stack of certificates of merit. Carefully laminated in plastic. Arrange neatly by year. Middle school. High school. Not a single sheet is missing. I looked at that pile of certificates in silence. In my memory. These things seem to have never been taken seriously by anyone. But for now. Some people spend a lot of time preserving them.

"Dad keep it?"

I asked softly. Dad didn't answer right away. He looked at these item in the box. Distant eyes.

"The day I won a medal."

"Dad showed it off to almost all his friends."

I raised my head. He smiled bitterly.

"If I say it out loud, you probably won't believe it."

"That day, my father carried the medal with him for several months."

I don't know how to react. Because this is the first time I hear these things. Twenty-six years past. No one ever told me. No one ever let me know. Dad bowed his head. Wrinkled hands clasped slightly.

"But dad is wrong."

His voice was very hoarse.

"I'm even more proud of you."

"I'm even more afraid of you being arrogant."

"The more I feel like I'm good."

"I think even more that you don't need much attention."

He paused for a moment. Difficulty continues.

"And my two brothers..."

"Dad always thinks to spend more time with them."

"Because they're boys."

"Because I have to continue my career in the future."

Every sentence, every word. It's like the most belated confession. I sat still. No interruptions. Didn't object either. Dad looked at me. His eyes turned red.

"For twenty-six years."

"Dad always thinks he's doing the right thing."

"I didn't know until now."

"The father who hurts the most is the son who is the best."

The space fell into silence again. A long time later. I gently closed the box. Don't cry. No complaints either. Because some apologies come too late. Although it still makes people emotional. But it's impossible to turn back time. Right at that moment. The meeting room door was knocked lightly. The eldest brother entered. In his hand he held a file. He walked straight in front of me.