Chapter 27 — My Nameless Occupation

She sighed with a touch of nostalgia, remarking, "Wan, your current office is truly far more impressive than that cramped little nook you occupied back at Ever-Far." I offered a faint smile and replied, "Sister Liu, you have no idea—there are moments when I actually miss that tiny corner quite dearly." She let out a soft laugh, and I found myself joining her. On a quiet Saturday afternoon, Nian returned home from school, and the two of us sat together on the balcony of our new apartment. We had arranged several pots of golden pothos along the railing. The late afternoon sun slanted in from the west, casting a warm, honey-colored glow across the brick wall.

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Have you ever wondered what your life would be like if Ever-Far hadn't let you go back then?"

I pondered the question for a moment, letting the silence settle between us.

"I suppose I would still be at Ever-Far, serving as an administrative specialist, shouldering the burdens of eight different departments, and perhaps my salary would have crawled up to a hundred and sixty thousand by now."

"And then what would happen?"

"Eventually, the day would come for me to retire. Jian-Guo would drop a red envelope in the group chat with a generic message saying, 'Wan, thank you for all your hard work.' Everyone would scramble to claim their portion, exchange a few hollow pleasantries, and then, just like that, I would vanish from that group forever, forgotten in the digital hum."

Nian fell silent, absorbing the weight of my words.

"But I don’t regret those twelve years," I added softly.

"Why not?"

"Because those twelve years transformed me into someone capable, someone of substance. It was simply that in that place, no one had the eyes to see that I was useful."

A sudden breeze drifted across the balcony, causing the verdant leaves of the pothos to shiver and dance.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Are you happy now?"

I cast my gaze out toward the sprawling city beyond the window—the city I had called home for twenty years. It was a place where I had suffered the loss of my marriage, lost my livelihood, and even sacrificed my sense of self-worth. Yet, it was also here that I had nurtured my daughter into a fine young woman, cultivated bonds with friends who stood by me through the storm, and forged a product now trusted by thirteen thousand companies.

"Yes, I am happy," I replied, my voice steady and certain.

Nian leaned her head gently against my shoulder.

"That is all that matters, Mom. That is enough."