Chapter 24 — A Day as a Janitor

The stroke of the pen finally fell precisely where it belonged. Gu Nan handed my old employee badge back to me.

"Sister Tan, Chairman Shen said you may keep this card."

I accepted it. General Administration Manager. Tan Ngoc Tran. The corners of the badge were worn, and the pin on the back had grown loose. Yet I did not request a new one. I slipped it into my pocket. As I stepped out of the Yuan Tai building, the afternoon sunlight was exceptionally radiant. Sister Wang, Old Hu, Ha Mieu, and a multitude of former colleagues stood near the entrance. Someone called out, "Sister Tan, do come back to visit often." I turned my head to gaze at the edifice. The glass facade gleamed with a blinding brilliance. The twenty-eighth-floor corridor that I had mopped just yesterday sparkled under the sunlight as well. I offered a gentle smile.

"Until the final accounts are settled, I shall return every single day."

Everyone froze for a brief moment before bursting into warm laughter. Three months later, all overdue compensation for the veteran staff members had been fully disbursed. Those implicated in the document forgery were held accountable one by one. Shen Zhiyuan never set foot in Yuan Tai again. Zheng Huaiyin’s arrogant assertion that an elderly woman nearing retirement could never stir up any trouble eventually became a cautionary tale in the company’s internal training programs. Someone once asked me if I regretted signing that abrupt transfer order. I replied that I had no regrets at all. For there are certain doors which, if you pound upon them and slam shut from without, only allow the people inside to continue concealing their misdeeds. Yet when you push your cleaning cart right in, you are able to see the dust gathered in every hidden corner quite clearly. On the evening of my official retirement, I thoroughly washed my sanitation uniform, folded it with utmost care, and returned it to Ha Mieu. She looked at me and asked, "Auntie Tan, will you truly no longer concern yourself with the company's affairs from now on?" I placed my old employee badge gently into the wooden drawer.

"Matters that ought not to be my concern, I shall manage no longer."

"However, should anyone ever mistake an honest person for a soft persimmon to be squeezed at will, I shall certainly return."

A gentle breeze drifted in through the window. The retirement confirmation letter resting upon the desk fluttered softly. I pressed my fingers down upon the corner of the paper and smiled. This time, it was not a cold, sardonic smirk. It was the quiet triumph of finally reclaiming my true name from the paperwork woven by their schemes.