Chapter 2

The year I graduated from college, I was looking for work.

At the time, a saying circulated online: good jobs only flow through connections and bloodlines.

Unable to suppress my frustration, I mentioned it to him once.

He just stayed silent for a while, then raised his eyebrows slightly and adjusted his collar.

"I'm your connection. You can work with me."

He was my best friend.

Naturally, I liked him.

I was too ashamed to say it out loud.

But perhaps I was too obvious, or perhaps he was naturally perceptive and could see through people's hearts.

One night, he called me.

"Emergency. I just fell for a girl at first sight, but I don't have what I need. Can you bring it to me?"

My mind went blank with a buzzing sound. My throat went dry, and I couldn't speak.

After a long silence, I asked him: "Why me?"

He laughed lightly: "You're my best friend. If you don't help me, who will?"

Finally, he asked seriously: "You'll come, right?"

In the adult world, some things only need to be hinted at. By saying this, he was telling me to put away my feelings.

If I had cursed him out and hung up then, we would never have crossed that line. We would have remained just friends forever.

But for some reason, I still went.

It was pouring rain that day. The drainage system was overwhelmed, and water rose almost to my calves.

Perhaps it was my body's self-defense mechanism—I forgot how I awkwardly handed him the item under Samuel's ambiguous gaze.

I also forgot how I left that hotel.

I only remember the woman in the room asking curiously: "Who's that?"

Samuel scoffed lightly: "Just an ordinary employee."

"Ah, working people really have it rough."

The subway had stopped running, and the rain was too heavy to catch a cab.

I didn't have my ID, so I couldn't get a hotel room. I could only stumble through the flooded streets toward home.

The wind in Northbridge cut across my face like a dull knife. My whole body was numb.

From the hotel to home, I walked for three hours.

After I got back, I developed a high fever.

Later, I got otitis media.

That same day, my mom called me.

She said she wanted to come keep me company.

On the other end of the phone, I also heard Samuel's voice.

As frivolous and certain as always.

"You'll come, right?"

I didn't respond. I just hung up.

I wouldn't go.

I would never go again.

Outside, rain was pouring down. My ear started hurting again.

The pain spread quickly, even my scalp throbbed viciously. I instinctively pressed my temples.

Mom stood there, looking somewhat at a loss.

These past few years, she hadn't been happy in Northbridge. She always did things cautiously. She always felt guilty for not being able to help my career, so while I was supporting her, she somehow learned to read my moods and act accordingly.

It was completely backwards.

I forced myself to sit up and act unconcerned: "Don't worry about me. He's not someone I like—he's purely a capitalist boss."

"You know how it is in the city—it's cutthroat. Some of my friends even have to babysit their boss's kids after work."

She didn't respond, and her expression didn't relax.

I knew she didn't believe me.

After all, I'd climbed so high in this city over the years. Even the leadership had to give me some respect and wouldn't give me attitude.

But I really didn't have the energy to explain anything more.

When I was in school, I used to tell her everything—what I ate, what I drank, what happened at school.

But during these years of single-mindedly chasing Samuel, she and I gradually grew distant, like there was a wall between us. Separated by an invisible distance, I couldn't open my heart to her. I didn't know what to say to her.

I just said softly: "Mom, really don't worry about me. I've wanted to quit for a while now."

"It's late. Let's both go to bed."

I turned around, but behind me came a nearly choked voice.

"But I can't help but worry."

"I went to your company to find you. That time, I saw him bullying you."

My head hurt more and more. I couldn't spare the mental energy to think about which time it was.

"I went to him. I wanted him to treat you better. But he told me that you got into the company through connections anyway, that you'd already achieved more than most people could reach, that suffering a little was a privilege, and that at least you were smart."

"But having me as a mother—it's really unlucky."