Name: My father is Zhao Dehan, and I hope he will become a dragon!

"Double overtime pay?!"

The news immediately caused an uproar among the workers in the entire workshop.

Wang Youfu, an old fitter who had just finished his shift, was squatting at the entrance of the canteen eating a steamed bun when he heard this and almost dropped it on the ground.

"Really?" He grabbed the dispatcher who was running past.

"Director Zheng said it himself!"

The dispatcher, panting, announced, "General Manager Zhao has approved it—all overtime work will be paid double!"

Wang Youfu froze for three seconds, then suddenly slapped his thigh: "Let's go! Back to the workshop! I'm not sleeping tonight!"

The dispatcher said, "No, no, you can't just work overtime like that. You've already worked twelve hours. You need to rest. You've reached your overtime quota for today, Wang Youfu. You need to rest now. No one can work more than four hours of overtime per day!"

Wang Youfu took a deep breath: "But, but, you only get paid for one hour of overtime! I want to work overtime, I must work overtime!!"

"No way!" the dispatcher said. "Now is not the time for you to work overtime whenever you want!"

Overtime work must not exceed the limit.

This is also a strict requirement.

If someone were to die from overwork or sudden death, it would be a huge problem.

The whole country is now focused on him, and he has attracted countless eyes. His father is also very popular, and many people are watching him.

Once someone dies, some people make a big fuss about it.

For example, Gao Yuliang, then it would be bad if it caused a negative impact.

Zhao Chongming also had to consider his own reputation.

However, even so...

The workers who were about to clock out suddenly rushed back to their workstations.

Someone laughed as they put on their anti-static wrist strap: "I was planning to go home and help my kid with his homework, but now? He has to do it himself. I'm going to earn him a new schoolbag!"

Lin Jing, a female worker, put her work clothes back on after taking them off and called out to her roommate, "Please tell the dorm manager I'm not going back tonight!"

"Damn, is it easy to earn this little bit of money? Why don't you take a proper rest?"

"crazy?"

Lin Jing's eyes lit up: "You do the math—I made 3200 last month, and if I work the full month this month, the overtime pay alone will be over 6000! Add in performance bonuses, meal allowances, perfect attendance bonuses... it'll easily be over 8000!"

My roommate gasped, "Eight thousand?! That's more than a civil servant's salary in Jingzhou!"

"More than that!"

An experienced worker chimed in, "My son works like crazy at Foxconn in Wuhan, earning only 4,500 yuan a month. Let me tell you, I'm even thinking of sending him back to Chongming Tech next door. It's all the same job; what's the difference between working at Foxconn and working at Chongming Tech?"

"That's true, but I think the Chongming Group is almost full!"

"It's not just Chongming Group; our Dafeng Factory is a hot commodity right now. Countless people want to get in, but it's not like you can just walk in like that!"

"That's true. It seems our Dafeng factory will need to expand further!"

……

……

Wang Youfu returned to his dormitory, feeling exhausted, but still unable to sleep; his hands were trembling slightly.

Although I'm tired, I'm incredibly excited.

He pulled out his crumpled notebook and, by the dim light of the overhead lamp, began to calculate, stroke by stroke:

Base salary: 1800 yuan

8-hour day shift: 60 yuan/day × 22 days = 1320 yuan

Night shift allowance: +300 yuan

Overtime: 12 hours/day × 40 yuan × 30 days = 14,400 yuan

Good product rate bonus: +800 yuan

Meal allowance + transportation: +500 yuan

Total: ≈ 18,820 yuan

He stared at the last number, his hands trembling even more violently.

Eighteen thousand!

Some time ago, when Dafeng Factory was being bullied by Shanshui Group, he felt that his life was over and he would never be able to earn money to support his family again.

But now—

Wang Youfu felt that his name was correct.

I am a blessed person!

May 3, 2007, Cupertino, California.

It's 1 a.m. at Apple's headquarters, Infinite Loop, Building 1.

Jobs stood barefoot on the clean floor, his black turtleneck sweater wrinkled, clutching a report that had just been sent back from China.

His brows furrowed into a deep frown.

"Tony, are you sure this is real?" His voice was low, and he felt a chill run down his spine.

Standing opposite him is Tony Fadell—Apple's Senior Vice President of Hardware Engineering and the father of the iPod.

At this moment, Tony's forehead was slightly sweaty: "Yes, Steve. We obtained a Nova K1 engineering sample through our channels and also analyzed the launch event video. It sold its 48,321st unit in China today."

Steve Jobs didn't say anything, and turned to walk towards the worktable.

There, lying quietly, was a Nova K1.

The silver metal frame gleams with a cold light, and the front is a single piece of glass with no keyboard or physical buttons—only a circular touch button at the bottom, with the letter N in the center of the circle.

He lightly traced a line with his fingertips.

The screen lit up instantly.

The icons flowed like water, the input method moved with the touch of a finger, and the browser loaded the CNN homepage so quickly that his pupils contracted.

"This touch response..."

He murmured, "Even more stable than our prototype."

Tony Fadell cautiously added, "Their operating system is called NovaOS, based on the Linux kernel, but the UI scheduling has been completely refactored. The touch latency is 78ms in our tests, while ours is currently 92ms."

Jobs looked up abruptly: "Who did this?"

"Zhao Chongming. A 26-year-old young man from Handong Province." Tony Fadell handed over a laptop: "This is the full transcript of his press conference."

Jobs took it and glanced at the screen.

"Today, we will redefine the mobile phone."

"This is not a smartphone, this is a miracle."

"It only has one button—because all you need is your finger."

His breathing suddenly stopped.

These lines...

This pace...

That black shirt, those jeans, that leisurely pacing...

This doesn't make sense, does it?

How do I feel? Is it just my own feeling?

He turned to the next page—

The image freezes: Zhao Chongming stands under the spotlight, one hand in his pocket, a slight smile on his lips, his eyes resolute like a prophet. In short, the shot is very cool, with a sense of technology, as if he has created the future.

Ok……

This is the picture Jobs envisioned.

For the iPhone launch event, Steve Jobs rehearsed countless times, carefully finding the right rhythm on stage, and refining his lines time and again.

Now, Jobs feels like someone has stolen his brain.

Jobs slowly reached for his turtleneck sweater, then looked down at the Nova K1's packaging box—a minimalist white background with only a silver "N" printed in the center, the font even looking like it had been hand-tuned by Apple's designers.

"This is impossible..."

Steve Jobs' voice tightened: "What he said were all my words!?"

Tony Fadell paused for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Steve, what's more troublesome is—they released their product two months earlier than us. Now Chinese media are calling the Nova K1 'the world's first all-touchscreen smartphone.' Our patent portfolio... might be at a disadvantage."

Jobs walked to the window and looked at the sleeping lights of Silicon Valley.

The iPhone will be unveiled in six weeks.

But now, the world has witnessed the birth of a "perfect" touchscreen phone in China.

Even more frightening is-

That young man named Zhao Chongming seemed to have stolen his soul.

Steve Jobs fell silent.

He felt like he had worked for nothing; all the lines had to be redesigned and all the rhythm had to be readjusted.

They can no longer even use the word 'redefine'—

Because Zhao Chongming has already used it.

Jobs looked bitter.

He was using all my words!