Chapter 1 — The French company paid me 2,000 yuan, the next day the entire chain was paralyzed

A French company offered me an annual salary of 5 million and trained me from home to work as a technical consultant. I had many expectations, and in the first month, I led the team to solve the project problem that they left unfinished for half a year. But on payday, looking at the amount of 2,000 yuan that had just entered my bank account, I felt like I was falling into an ice hole. Personnel calmly explained:

“This is the salary for the probationary period, according to company regulations.”

I didn't say a word, that night I packed my things and left. The next day, the old boss's phone almost blew up. He sent a voice message, almost screaming:

“Come back now! The entire production line has stopped!”

The cold light from the phone screen reflected on my pale face. Messages from the French National Bank lie there silently. Transaction amount: 2000.00 yuan. I stared at that number — once, twice, three times. My brain seemed to be drained in an instant, leaving only a ringing sound in my ears. Is it a system error? Or did I misread the decimal point when making an international transfer? Anyway, the annual salary is 5 million, converted into euros, it is nearly 60,000 euros per month. How can it be just 2,000 yuan? This amount is not even enough to pay this month's apartment rent. My heart sank heavily in my chest, then it felt like it was being pulled up by an invisible hand. I squeezed the phone tightly, my knuckles turning white from using too much force. I called the head of human resources — a woman named Marie. The bell rang for a long time, so long that I thought she wouldn't pick up. Finally, a long, languid voice rang out on the other end of the line: I suppressed the rolling emotions, trying to keep my voice calm:

"Marie, I'm Lam Vy. I want to confirm the salary issue."

Her voice carried an air of disdain and superiority.

“Your salary has been paid, is there a problem?”

"The text message I received was 2,000 yuan. I think there might be a misunderstanding."

I heard a very soft chuckle on the other end of the line. Laughter is like a thin but poisoned needle, piercing straight into the eardrum.

“There is no misunderstanding, Lam.”

“The contract clearly states — the first three months is a probationary period.”

“2,000 yuan is the standard salary for interns.”

Probation period. Intern. These three words seemed to explode in my head, making my eyes darken. I remember the day I signed the contract. Project manager Pierre, that greasy middle-aged white man, pushed a thick stack of French contracts towards me. He pointed to the signature line at the bottom of the page and said enthusiastically:

“Lam, sign quickly, the whole team is waiting for you to create a miracle.”

My French is not good, I can only understand most technical terms. When my eyes glanced at the small text near the salary section, he cleverly covered it with his hand and handed the pen to me.

"These are all standard procedures, no need to pay attention to details. Our sincerity lies in the total salary."

Now that I think about it — that hasty face wasn't praying for kindness. It was clear that the executioner was luring his prey into a trap. Huge humiliation mixed with overwhelming anger rose straight from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. I solved the problem that their entire technical department couldn't solve for half a year. I single-handedly led three new recruits who had just graduated from college, restructuring the entire core system within a month. This month, I only slept four hours each day. Caffeine and nicotine are what keep me alive. My colleagues' eyes looked at me - from contempt, suspicion, to surprise, admiration, then almost worship. They treat me like a god. But in the eyes of those who raised me to that pedestal, I was only worth 2,000 yuan. The price of an intern.

"Hello? Are you still listening?"

Marie's impatient voice pulled me out of the whirlwind of emotions. I don't answer. The fire of anger had burned to its peak, but on the contrary, it made me terrifyingly calm. Arguing with this type of person — no sense. This is not negligence — it is conspiracy. It's not that they don't understand — it's that they intentionally s,humiliate,c. They recruited me, not because of my talent, but because I was alone in a foreign land and easily lost. I hung up. Find Marie's number — press and hold — delete. My hands didn't shake once. Next, I deleted Pierre's number. Exit the team chat group, delete all contacts. The world is quiet. I opened the wardrobe and threw the vests I bought to blend into the office environment onto the floor. Pull out the largest suitcase and spread it flat on the floor. Each item — I tidied up calmly and orderly, as if writing code. Phone vibrates. Message from Leo — the only gentle young man:

"Vy, have you received your salary yet? What the hell are they doing? This is ridiculous!"

I looked at the message for a few seconds. Then turn off the screen. No reply. Open your computer and book the earliest flight back home. Paris, 3 am. I bought a one-way ticket. The room returned as empty as the day I arrived. I stood in front of the large glass door. Outside — Paris is as bright as a dream. In the distance, the company building where I work is still lit. Maybe they were celebrating my achievements. Or use my code to escalate power. I laughed coldly. Goodbye Paris. Goodbye to the stupid, arrogant, stupid, and secretive people. The game — just begun. Charles de Gaulle Airport at dawn, sparsely populated. Outside the giant glass roof, the night is as black as ink. I pulled my suitcase and walked on the shiny floor, each step seemed like a logic button. Finding an empty seat to sit down, I turned off the phone. The world was immediately quarantined. The flight announcement in French rang out — what was once a dream, now made me just noise. I leaned against the cold chair and closed my eyes. Images of the past month replayed in my head. First day of meeting — suspicious eyes:

“A young woman working as a technical consultant?”

They sneered in French. When I submitted the first architectural design — the room was silent. Someone interrupted, saying my design was unrealistic. Pierre folded his arms and sat watching the play. I didn't argue — just quietly modeled each line. Three days later — the system was running. The whole room was silent — from shock. Leo was the first to stand up and applaud. The applause was sparse — but it was a start. A month later — I became an absolute mainstay. Sleep on a folding bed in the lab. The whiteboard is filled with formulas that only I understand. They slowly asked “Is it possible?” Thanh: "Vy, what's going on here?" The day the project was successful — they opened champagne. Pierre patted my shoulder, calling me a hero. The fat hand on my shoulder made me nauseous. Now that I think about it - his eyes were like a bitch, looking at a little pig. All credit — will be his. As for me — just a tool that costs 2,000 yuan. It's ridiculous. The sound of the plane engine pulled me back to reality. Paris gradually shrinks outward windows, into dim spots of light. More than ten hours of flight — I slept most of it. Physical fatigue overwhelmed mental anger. The plane landed in Beijing. Stepping out of the cabin, smelling the familiar air - I truly felt alive again. Open the phone. A series of missed calls, messages, and notifications flooded in. Most are from French companies. Dozens of messages from Leo. Just one news from Pierre:

"Lam, immediately return to the company. Leaving work without permission will be severely punished."

I laughed contemptuously. Block all French phone numbers. The world — quiet again. Returning to the apartment in the country, the dust was thin. But everything makes me feel secure. I fell into bed—slept all day and all night. Waking up at dusk, orange light dyed the warm room. WeChat messages from former domestic boss:

“Tieu Lam, I heard you went to France to develop, is everything okay?”

I answered slowly:

“Returned home, on leave.”

I know — they'll find out sooner or later. The system I built — like a sophisticated timer bomb. If not touched, it runs normally. But just adjusting one parameter — will cause a chain reaction. Pierre — the type of person who likes to show off his power — will definitely bump into it. I cook hot noodles. The storm — is coming.