Chapter 25 — My Nameless Occupation

"Since you have had too much to drink, be quiet for a while."

That week, I accomplished something I had long dreamed of. I bought To Niem a home. It was a two-bedroom apartment, just a stone's throw from the university, south-facing, and bathed in glorious natural light. It was not large, but it was new. For the longest time, my daughter and I had been relegated to cramped, rented rooms. On moving day, To Niem stood in her new bedroom, padding barefoot across the hardwood floors, circling the space again and again.

"Mom, this is truly our own home."

"Yes, it is."

"The floor feels so warm."

"It has an integrated heating system."

She stood before the window, watching the city pulse with life below. The sunlight streamed through the glass, catching in her hair like gold dust.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"When I was little, you told me that when you saved enough money, you would buy me a room where I could bask in the sun."

"I did say that."

"You actually did it."

I stepped forward to stand beside her. The ginkgo leaves on the tree outside the window were turning a brilliant, fiery yellow. It was autumn. The day I was fired—that had been a spring day.

"To Niem."

"Yes?"

"When your father left us years ago, I had absolutely nothing. No savings, no home, no one to turn to for help. I had only you."

"I know."

"It has been fourteen years. Finally, I can say these words to you—for the days that lie ahead, let me be the one to shelter you."

She did not turn around, but I saw her shoulders tremble. A moment later, she faced me. Her eyes were rimmed with red, yet she wore a soft smile.

"Mom, you are being so sentimental."

"Then why are you crying?"

"You are the one crying, Mom."

"I am not."

We stood together before the window of our new home, immersed in the autumn light, silently wiping away each other's tears.

Chapter 29

On the second anniversary of the founding of Gian Chu Technology, our client base surpassed the 1,500 mark. Annual revenue exceeded forty million, and our staff had grown to sixty people. In the sector of SaaS operations management for small and medium-sized enterprises, our product ranked in the top three. An industry forum invited me to give a speech; I declined three times, but on the fourth, Shen Dich forced me to accept. He even helped me craft the topic—"The Operational Methodology of an Administrative Specialist."

On the day of the speech, over three hundred people sat in the audience, mostly business owners and operations managers. I stood on the podium, empty-handed, without a single note to guide me.

"Hello everyone. My name is To Van, and I am forty-five years old. Two years ago, I was fired from a company where I had worked for twelve years. I was an administrative specialist, earning an annual salary of one hundred and forty thousand. I carried the workload of eight different departments, a burden no one noticed and no one cared about. The day I was forced to leave, the company offered me a severance package. I signed the papers and cleared out my desk in exactly three minutes."

The hall fell into a pin-drop silence.

"After I left, that company descended into total chaos. Because the tasks of those eight departments suddenly lacked an overseer, workflows stalled, project schedules collided, and clients began to file formal complaints. Only then did it dawn on them—ah, it turned out that To Van had been carrying all of that weight alone."

"But that is not the focus of today."

I scanned the faces in the audience.

"The focus is this: in this world, there are far too many people just like the version of To Van I used to be. They might be working in your companies right now, in positions that garner no attention, yet they bear responsibilities that far exceed their roles. They do not claim credit, they do not complain, and they do not seek the spotlight. They simply bury their heads and work."

"Until one day, they are laid off, or they collapse from exhaustion, or they finally walk away. And suddenly, the company realizes that the things they assumed were 'running automatically' were never automatic at all."