Chapter 5 — A Day as a Janitor

Chairman Shen, there might be personal employee information inside, you cannot just open it like that!

Shen Zhao An looked straight at her.

Is it only now that you remember to care about privacy?

Her words were completely blocked by that single question. A heavy-duty bolt cutter was quickly brought over. The sharp snap of the padlock being severed echoed piercingly through the cramped utility room. The locker door was pulled open, releasing a stale wave of damp paper and dust. Inside sat half a crate of obsolete corporate forms, a bundle of discarded employee ID badges, and a heavy kraft paper box securely bound with packing tape. The middle-aged man used a small utility knife to slice through the adhesive layers. The first layer was discarded sanitation staff uniforms. The second layer consisted of scrap paper. Upon reaching the third layer, the crimson corner of a hardcover folder revealed itself. At the sight of that particular color, my heart sank heavily. Shen Zhao An saw it too. He reached out and retrieved the item with his own hands. Inscribed upon the cover were the words: Special Guarantee Roster of the Yuan Tai Startup Era. Not a single soul in the room recognized it. But I recognized it immediately. It was the roster personally signed by the Board of Directors back when Yuan Tai had not yet relocated to its current headquarters building. There were only seventeen names inscribed within. Each and every one of those individuals had stood alongside Shen Zhao An through periods of suspended production, unpaid wages, relentless debt collectors, and the fulfillment of the very first company orders. At that time, the corporation made a solemn promise: anyone who served continuously at Yuan Tai until retirement would be entitled to lifelong benefits at the highest managerial tier. Afterwards, this roster was handed over to the Board of Directors Office to be sealed away. I had always assumed it remained safely tucked away on the twenty-ninth floor. Shen Zhao An opened the front page. The first page was not the roster at all, but rather blank sheets of paper that had been stuffed inside as replacements. He continued flipping backward. Every single page was blank. The genuine roster had vanished entirely. La Qian’s expression of relief had not yet fully faded from her face when the middle-aged man suddenly extracted a sealed plastic evidence bag from the bottom of the box.

Chairman Shen, there is this as well.

Inside the sealed bag lay half an access control card that had been sheared in half. Affixed to the surface was a label bearing my name. Tan Ngoc Tran. Shen Zhao An’s gaze grew as heavy as iron. Trinh Hoai Nhan spoke up instantly.

It seems Department Head Tan really has some explaining to do now.

I stared intently at that half-card. It was not my card. For the bottom corner lacked a specific scratch mark. The genuine old card had been gouged into a white streak by a staple remover when I personally handed it over to the Board of Directors Office five years ago. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, Ha Mieu abruptly pointed toward the lowermost compartment of the locker.

There is an envelope down there.

The middle-aged man bent down and retrieved it. The envelope was exceedingly thin. The adhesive flap remained completely intact. Written across the front was a single line of handwriting. To be opened personally by Tan Ngoc Tran.

06

The characters on the envelope were not printed text, but rather handwritten script. The strokes were remarkably firm, carrying a distinct habit of pressing down slightly at the horizontal turns. I had gazed upon that exact handwriting for thirty-two years. It belonged to Shen Zhao An. Not a soul in the utility room uttered a sound. Shen Zhao An accepted the envelope, and for the very first time, an unmistakable flash of fury ignited within his eyes.

Why is this letter here?

La Qian took half a step backward.

I do not know.

Trinh Hoai Nhan hastily chimed in. It is completely normal for personal items to get mixed up with old archives. Shen Zhao An fixed his gaze upon him.

This is the retirement confirmation letter I wrote for Tan Ngoc Tran.

Trinh Hoai Nhan’s complexion shifted drastically. I raised my head as well. I had never laid eyes upon this letter before. Shen Zhao An handed the envelope directly to me.

Open it.

I accepted it. The sealing adhesive was still fiercely bonded. I used my fingernail to slowly pry it apart. Inside lay merely two sheets of paper. The first was the retirement confirmation issued by the Chairman’s Office. It explicitly recorded that Tan Ngoc Tran was entitled to the sixth position listed on the Startup Era Special Guarantee Roster. The highest managerial tier. Lifelong benefits. Medical subsidies. Honorary consultant allowances. The second sheet was a forwarding copy bearing the official stamp of the Board of Directors. The date of issuance was precisely one month prior. My fingers paused upon that date. One month ago was the exact day Trinh Hoai Nhan demanded that I hand over my duties ahead of schedule. La Qian stared fixedly at the document, panic finally breaking across her features. Perhaps she had never anticipated that the cardboard box concealed more than just discarded paperwork—it also held the items they had failed to purge in time. Shen Zhao An looked toward the middle-aged man.

To whom was this document delivered that day?

The middle-aged man opened his briefcase. The internal affairs staff of the Board of Directors Office was on leave, so the Administrative Center accepted it on their behalf, and the person who signed for it was La Qian.

La Qian instantly shook her head.

I only signed for it, and then I handed it over to Vice President Trinh for review.

Trinh Hoai Nhan’s face turned ashen. Do not try to shove this onto me arbitrarily.

La Qian grew frantic. You were the one who said to hold onto it first, and figure it out after she retires!

The moment those words left her mouth, she froze in place. The entire utility room felt as though a basin of ice water had been dumped over it. Shen Zhao An did not raise his voice. His silence was far more suffocating than any roar.

Hold onto what?

La Qian’s lips trembled. Hold onto the subsidy confirmation.

For what reason?

She glanced at Trinh Hoai Nhan. Trinh Hoai Nhan remained silent. I spoke in her stead.

Because the moment my job title on my final working day was altered to that of a sanitation worker, they could legally strip me of my managerial tier entitlements.

Phan Minh’s legs turned to jelly. Shen Zhao An turned his gaze toward Phan Minh.