The fake heiress loves to act? The max-level boss isn't interested in playing along.

Several workers nearby glanced over discreetly.

Engineer Chen had always been honest and upright, and had never been reprimanded like this in public before. His face instantly turned bright red.

Seeing that he had been humiliated, Section Chief Wang became even more smug:

"Let me remind you, there are already few spots available for professional title evaluation this year. At your age, you should retire after one more term."

If I don't get promoted to senior engineer this time, my salary, pension, and housing will all be affected.

Engineer Chen's Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't dare to reply.

This is precisely his most painful point.

After spending most of my life working hard, this is the last step I'm about to take.

But the other party always seems to have a hold on him.

Section Chief Wang glanced at his toolbox, his tone accusatory:

"There are people outside poaching our factory workers recently, don't think I don't know."

Let me make this clear from the start: the people were trained by the factory, and the technology came from the factory.

If any of you dare to have any improper thoughts, you won't just lose your professional titles, you won't even keep your current positions.

"Section Chief Wang, I...I didn't have any ulterior motives."

Engineer Chen knew the other party was referring to him, and he defended himself in a low voice.

"It's best if nothing is done."

Section Chief Wang pressed on relentlessly, saying, "If anyone dares to collude with outsiders, I'll directly block your files, transfers, and assessments."

Whether you can leave or stay depends entirely on your performance.

He gently patted Old Chen on the shoulder, his tone softening:

"Old Chen, didn't your son still want to get a job as a child of a factory worker? If he behaves himself, I can put in a good word for him. But if he doesn't listen..."

The unfinished words were more hurtful than a scolding.

Engineer Chen clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Throughout his life, he was highly skilled, hardworking, and dedicated.

Even in front of a section chief, the lowest-ranking leader,

They still don't dare to say a single defiant word.

Professional title, house, son's job, pension...

Everything is in their hands.

Having finished his reprimand, Section Chief Wang added:

"Reorganize the drawings for that batch of equipment this afternoon and hand them to my office before you leave work. You'll be responsible if a single line is missing or a single piece of data is incorrect."

After saying that, he turned and walked away with his hands behind his back.

Engineer Chen stood still for a long time without moving.

A breeze blew in through the open window, causing the white hair at Chen's temples to tremble slightly.

He slowly pulled the business card out of his pocket, his fingertips repeatedly tracing the name and address on it.

Does he still have a choice?

He stared at the business card for a long time, his knuckles clenching tighter and tighter until the paper was crumpled.

He spent his whole life toiling away in the factory, until his hair turned white and his back was bent, and in the end, he didn't even dare to say that he wanted to move to another place.

It's not that I don't want to, it's that I can't.

Engineer Chen closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When I opened my eyes again, the faint light in them had completely disappeared.

With a forceful tug, he tore the business card in half.

A soft sound shattered the last vestige of hope in my heart.

Tear it in half, then tear it into quarters, then into eight pieces...

Until the entire business card turned into a pile of shredded paper.

He walked to the trash can in the corner, raised his arm, and the shredded paper fell into the bottom of the can, instantly buried by dust and waste paper.

I finally got off work at 8 p.m.

Mr. Chen dragged his heavy steps home. As soon as he pushed open the door, a faint smell of medicine wafted out.

The room was dimly lit. His wife was half-lying on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), her face pale and her lips slightly dry.

She has severe diabetes and has been on medication for years. Her health is deteriorating day by day, and she has difficulty even walking.

He single-handedly supports everything, both at home and outside.

"You're back?"

His wife's voice was so soft it seemed to float, "The rice is keeping warm in the pot..."

Mr. Chen grunted in response, forcing himself to stay alert, and went to pour his wife a glass of water.

But as soon as he turned around, the door was pushed open with a "bang".

His son walked in casually, his eyes immediately landing on him.

"Dad, give me some money."

"You want money again? Didn't I just give you some a few days ago?"

"What can that little bit do?"

The son said impatiently, "I'm going out with a friend to run some errands, and I'm short on cash, so hurry up."

Chen felt a pang of sadness.

My wife needs medication regularly, which costs money; and we also need money for household necessities like rice, oil, and salt.

He was an old worker with a meager salary, so he was always frugal and thrifty.

The son is not young, but he does not have a proper job. He idles away his days and only asks for money.

He lowered his voice: "I really don't have any extra money. Your mother's health..."

"Don't use my mom as an excuse!"

His son interrupted him, "Are you hiding something? I don't care, you have to give it to me today."

His wife, anxious and trying to sit up, gasped, "Don't pressure your dad... he's had a tough life..."

One sentence shattered the last line of defense in Engineer Chen's heart.

He suffered mistreatment at the factory, was manipulated by his section chief, his hopes were shattered, he had a sick wife at home, and a good-for-nothing son...

All the grievances, repression, and helplessness surged up at this moment.

He stood in the dimly lit room, his back slightly hunched, and remained silent for a long time.

A single, scalding tear silently slid down the corner of her eye.

It slid down her wrinkled cheek and landed heavily on her clothes.

He didn't wipe it; he just stood there, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible.

"Dad... he really is incompetent..."

The room fell silent instantly, with only his wife's soft sobs and his suppressed breathing remaining.

This tough old master craftsman, who spent his entire life working in front of machine tools,

At this moment, he cried like an old man with nowhere else to turn.

"It's just a few dollars, why are you acting like it's your life? Stop pretending."

The son's face darkened, and he muttered resentfully, "He's useless. He earns such a meager salary, he can't even support his son..."

The sound wasn't loud, but it pierced Chen's heart like a needle.

Before the elderly couple could speak, he suddenly turned around.

He kicked the wooden door hard, making a loud "bang" and the door panel vibrated and hummed.

"Fine, don't give it to me then! I have plenty of ways to handle this."

He threw down a sentence, slammed the door shut, and left without looking back.

The footsteps, accompanied by curses, disappeared into the hallway.

The room fell eerily quiet instantly, filled only with the smell of medicine, heavy breathing, and the wife's suppressed cough.

Engineer Chen slowly turned around and looked at his sick wife on the bed.

His lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a single word.

The wife, supporting her frail body, slowly extended her withered hand.

Gently pulling his arm, her voice was soft yet painful:

"Old Chen... don't get angry with the child... you might damage your health, it's all my fault, I didn't raise him well..."

She had severe diabetes, and her hands and feet were swollen, making it difficult for her to even lift her arms, yet she still tried her best to comfort him.

Mr. Chen squatted down by the kang (a heated brick bed), gently buried his face in his wife's hand, and finally couldn't hold back his tears.

This veteran worker, who had worked in the factory his entire life and never cried no matter how hard or tiring it was, cried like a helpless child.

"It's my fault for being useless..."

His voice was hoarse, "I can't earn money, I can't protect my family, I can't even afford to give you proper medical treatment or let you have a few days of peace..."

His wife gently stroked his gray hair, again and again, tears streaming down her face, and softly comforted him:

"Don't talk nonsense... We've been through so many years... I don't blame you... It's better for us to be together than anything else..."