Chapter 9 — 8 Million Dividend Does Not Include Me, No One Knows I Own Tens of Millions of Yuan

Talking about my nephew. His eyes lit up.

"There's a lot of potential."

"This year I got a very high score on the mock test."

"The teacher said the possibility of getting into an important university is very high."

But that smile made my nose bridge.

"He wants to study engineering."

"The tuition fee should be quite a bit."

"So I took the opportunity to do something extra."

"If you can save any money, that's the same."

He bowed his head and continued eating. I couldn't eat anymore. Because I suddenly realized. For the Lam family. Old Truong is just a security guard. But for another family. It's grandfather. Is the last support. I was silent for a long time. To the point where I don't even realize it. Since when? I started thinking about the factory more than before. At break up. Old Truong pushed the tricycle out. Before taking a few steps. He suddenly turned his head. The afternoon sunlight shined on his white hair. Reminds me of many years ago. When he stood at the factory gate waiting for a little girl to finish school. I raised my head. He looked at me. Hesitate for a few seconds. Finally asked that question. The voice was very quiet. So softly that it seemed like he was afraid of making things difficult for me.

"Factory..."

"Is it really impossible to save?"

"The factory... really can't be saved?"

I stood in the sunset, looking at Mr. Truong for a long time. He never begged. Don't use morality to force me. In his eyes there was only regret. It was like watching a loved one about to lose something very important. I don't answer. Because I don't even know how to answer. Old Truong saw that and smiled and waved his hand.

"Okay, let's pretend I didn't ask."

"Old people think too much."

"Don't take it to heart."

Having finished speaking, he pushed the three-wheeled cart slowly away. I stood still. It was not until his back disappeared at the end of the road that he got back in the car. Throughout the journey that day, one question always appeared in my mind. If the factory really collapses... How many people will be affected? That evening. I sat in the office until ten o'clock. Finally picked up the phone. Call Tran Loi. The other end of the line quickly picked up the phone.

"General Lam."

"Help me investigate something."

"You say it."

"I want to know exactly the current personnel situation of Kien Quoc Plastic Company."

Tran Loi was a bit surprised. But he didn't ask why.

"I will send you a report as soon as possible."

After hanging up. I sit alone in the apartment. Outside the glass window, the city lights shine brightly. The room was strangely quiet. I poured myself a glass of hot water. But after drinking it, I still feel cold. Perhaps because Mr. Truong's last words were still lingering in his ears. Can the factory really not be saved? Eleven twenty minutes. Email sent by Tran Loi. Faster than I thought. The title is only one line.

"Personnel report of Kien Quoc Plastic Company."

I open the file. The first page shows a number. That is the total number of workers and employees still working at the factory. I continued scrolling down. The second page is age statistics. 43 people over fifty years old. 21 people over fifty-five years old. Many of them have worked here for more than twenty years. I recognize many names. Someone used to hold me when I was a baby. Someone once bought me candy. Someone once taught me to ride a bicycle in the factory yard. As a child, I always thought a factory was just a place manufacture. Just discovered it now. It's more like a community. A community that many people have spent their youth attached to. I continued reading. Go to the third page. My hand suddenly stopped. 68 families have only one source of income. In other words. If the factory closes. 68 families will immediately lose their main source of livelihood. There are families raising their children to go to college. Some families have to pay for medicine every month. Some families are still paying their home loans. I looked at those numbers for a long time. The first time since leaving the Lam family. I felt my mood become heavy. Because these people are different from parents. Different from the eldest brother. Different from my second brother. They have never hurt me. Never looked down on me. Most don't even know who I am. Yet in the end, he had to suffer the consequences of this war. Twelve o'clock at night. I'm still sitting in front of the computer. One o'clock in the morning. I still haven't slept. Two o'clock in the morning. I reopened the report again. The number 217 is still there. No increase. No reduction. But it seems like it's getting heavier and heavier. I stood up and walked to the ground-level glass door. Looking down at the sparse traffic below. Memories suddenly appeared. When I was sixteen years old. A female worker in the factory was seriously ill. Difficult family. At that time, many people silently donated. Even Mr. Truong contributed a portion of his meager salary. Later, the woman recovered. She cried right in the middle of the factory yard. Said that she would not forget her whole life. I was young then. I just feel touched. Now think again. Perhaps what makes people nostalgic about a place has never been the buildings or machines. It's human. I returned to my desk. Open the drawer. Inside is the ownership contract of Thinh Hang Trading. As long as I want. I can continue to stay on the sidelines. That's the easiest option. Also the most reasonable choice. But don't understand why. Tonight I couldn't convince myself again.