Bit Genesis, a dium-sized internet enterprise on Yin City's east side, operated two or three social dia and short video apps. Though not widely known, their developnt prospects were considered quite good.
At that mont, the company was holding a team-building event on one of its floors. A corpulent corporate executive stood on stage, microphone in hand, giving a speech.
Recently, an employee from the company downstairs had died suddenly of cardiac arrest due to excessive overti.
Within Bit Genesis, many employees secretly discussed and criticized the upper managent's mandated 996 overti policy.
"...Regarding 996, I know there are many complaints," the executive began, "but I believe that being able to work 996 is a privilege."
The bloated executive looked at the sea of employees below and spoke with great feeling, "When I was young, I did more than 996; it was 12*12. And now, I stand on stage, and you all stand below."
Most employees wore sowhat rigid smiles. A few, usually derided by colleagues as "Bootlickers," had profound expressions, fists clenched as if stirred and moved by the executive's words.
Programr Chen Furuo, one of the company's employees, also stood in the audience listening. He glanced at the executive, who was full of hot air. Suddenly, a surge of nausea washed over him. He bowed his head, covering his mouth to stop himself from vomiting.
"...Youth is for striving," the executive continued. "Striving leads to glory. If you don't embrace 996 when you're young, you'll regret it when you're old! I know you all want to be successful, to stand out, to achieve financial freedom."
The executive, microphone in one hand, pointed at the crowd with the other and said passionately, "But let
ask you all a question: if you aren't willing to put in more sweat and ti than others, how can you improve? How can you be more successful than others?
"Many people in this world work 996; even more work longer hours each day. The workers in those factories labor much harder than you, yet you sit comfortably in air-conditioned rooms, earning more each month than they do.
"Most importantly, you are creating wealth for society. Your work is far more difficult, far more valuable than the simple labor in those factories. You're doing things that are genuinely valuable, aningful, and fulfilling.
"So I say, 996 is a blessing many strive for but never attain, and you're extrely fortunate to be able to work 996."
Chen Furuo kept his head down, silent, but a surge of rage welled up inside him.
This fat-headed executive loved to grandstand. He paid a pittance, provided abysmal working conditions, and demanded excessive overti without pay. He insulted subordinates freely and even harassed female employees, all while acting like a benevolent superior, insisting everything he did was for his subordinates' benefit.
Disgusting!
The executive droned on from the stage, "...Think about it. Think about the unemployed, those at risk of layoffs because their company is performing poorly, those who rely on their jobs to support their families, those who try everything but achieve nothing.
"Don't ask what your company can do for you; ask what you can do for your company."
Bullshit!
Chen Furuo subconsciously clenched his fists. The last ti his father fell and fractured a bone back ho, Chen Furuo had asked for leave to visit. His supervisor had approved it. However, the executive, who happened to be in the office then, had said, "The company is striving for an IPO; everyone is working tirelessly, day and night. Your situation is special, however. If you truly find it too difficult, then go ho and visit your parents. Take so ti to reflect."
Everyone understood: if he took that leave, he would likely lose his job.
Chen Furuo needed this job to support himself. He had a girlfriend to care for, parents to provide for, rent to pay, and future mortgage and car loans looming.
Helpless, he abandoned the idea of taking leave. During video calls, he couldn't even bear to look his parents in the eyes.
"...Back when your boss and I started this business," the executive reminisced, "we had to be frugal with every penny. We couldn't afford to rent an apartnt, so we slept on the company floor. To ensure work efficiency, I only slept five hours a night back then. Fortunately, my partners and I worked ourselves to the bone. We fought our way through fierce market competition and survived—survived to this day! And now, we're even on the verge of going public!"
The executive grew more impassioned. "Going public—what does that an? It ans a brighter future for everyone, a boundless path ahead! But those who just muddle along, who are content with just getting by, who are unwilling to give one hundred percent to the struggle—they are not my brothers and sisters. Employees who can't compete, whose performance is abysmal, who offer a poor cost-to-benefit ratio—they are parasites in the company, needing to be eliminated, to be 'resolved through discussion.'"
His swollen, narrow eyes swept over the crowd below. All the employees he stared at involuntarily lowered their heads.
"Recently, I've heard so rumors, so talk opposing company policy.
"First, our company has never forced overti! Whether to work overti is entirely voluntary.
"Second, those employees who fundantally disagree with company policy should either change themselves to adapt to the company or provide feedback to their superiors, offer suggestions, and help the company grow.
"Posting on forums, complaining on Zhihu, using the vilest language to insult leaders on social dia—what kind of skill is that? If you're so capable, then quit! If you're so capable, stand up now and show
what you're made of!"
The executive's gaze swept near Chen Furuo. Seeing the silent, head-bowed employees, he sneered, "Useless, always useless. Those who can't create wealth should just get lost as soon as possible."
"Fuck your mother!"
Chen Furuo blurted it out. The surrounding crowd watched him in stunned confusion. They seed shocked that this usually quiet, inarticulate, hardworking, and docile programr dared to publicly refute the executive in such a setting.
Has he gone mad?
Doesn't he want his job anymore?
"What did you say?" The executive seed unable to believe his ears. His eyes widened as he stared at the unremarkable employee. "Say it again!"
"Fuck! Your! Mother!"
Chen Furuo's eyes were bloodshot. "You keep saying you don't force overti," he seethed, "but colleagues who don't want to work overti are instantly marginalized, suppressed, and swept out like trash.
"You dump work on us right before quitting ti, demanding results by 9 a.m. the next day. We look at a desk piled high with materials—is that sothing anyone can finish in half an hour? Isn't that just forcing overti?
"You don't pay a single cent for it, yet you always act so high and mighty—I'll fuck your mother!
"You call berating employees 'guidance,' assigning overti 'training,' and not paying for it 'collective consciousness.' How do you twist words to make everything sound so good?
"And this crap about the company not supporting idlers? I work, you pay —that's a partnership! What do you an 'support'? The only ones who've ever supported
are my parents!
"Oh, I almost forgot. A rich, fat pig like you probably doesn't even *have* a mother."
"You, you, you!"
The executive, enraged, instantly lost his usual forced air of superiority. "You're fired! Get the hell out of here right now!"
"You don't have to tell !"
Chen Furuo pushed aside the pig-like executive. Amidst the varied gazes of his colleagues—so shocked, so disdainful, so mocking, so admiring—he walked to his desk and roughly gathered his belongings.
The executive, still fuming from the shove, rushed over and grabbed Chen Furuo's arm fiercely. "These are company property! Put them down, damn it!"
Chen Furuo, usually frail, haggard-looking, and timid, was suddenly consud by an inexplicable, violent rage. He spun around and punched the executive's chin. The blow sent the man's glasses flying, his pig-like face rippling and deforming like putty.
The executive stumbled backward several steps, clutching his painfully swollen face, his eyes nearly bursting with fury. "You dare hit ? Believe it or not, I'll get my gangster buddies to cripple you! You live with your girlfriend, right? I'm going to..."
Anger, like flas, filled Chen Furuo's eyes. He charged forward, kicking the executive in the stomach and sending him sprawling. Chen Furuo then pounced, grabbing the downed executive's neck with one hand while snatching a stapler from the desk with the other, jamming it towards the man's eyes.
All this happened too quickly; the surrounding employees were still in shock.
Just as a bloody incident seed imminent, a shout echoed through the floor.
"Ele. delivery! Who's Chen Furuo?!"
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