My heart is tied to that sky

Spring has arrived in the blink of an eye, and the factory area is full of vitality.

Since Peng Jiahui’s heroic act of rescuing the female worker spread throughout the factory, the morale of Hengxin employees has soared.

Orders kept coming in, and the production line ran day and night, presenting a thriving scene.

The trio of teenagers established themselves, and Tang Muyang gained their trust. Everyone in the factory looked at this young and promising manager with new respect.

Hot air, carrying fine gemstone dust, swept across the entire factory area of ​​Hengxin Jewelry Group.

The sunlight was fragmented by the layers of factory buildings, and the low hum of the machines never stopped from morning to night.

Cutting, grinding, polishing, and quality inspection—each step is interconnected.

Even the air was filled with a cool, crystalline mist; inhaling it brought a dry, itchy sensation to the lungs.

Over time, blood crusts with grayish-black powder would form in the nasal cavity, and even a cough would have a rusty, fishy smell.

Tang Muyang was now the warehouse supervisor and process supervisor, no longer involved in the front-line polishing, but responsible for process control and material accounting.

He managed the warehouse meticulously, ensuring accurate material handling and clear procedures, earning him the recognition of both supervisors and senior management.

Clumps of black, fluffy stuff can always be rubbed out of the ears and the back of the neck.

Even after repeated washing with soap, the deep-seated smell of dust lingers for a long time.

His skin was already sensitive, and prolonged contact with the crystal fragments caused a red rash to appear on his arm, which was extremely itchy.

They could only grit their teeth and bear it, applying the cheapest ointment, and then return to their posts the next day as usual.

The supervisor passed by, patted him on the shoulder, and said with trust in his voice, "Muyang, this batch of export orders is in a hurry, so keep a close eye on it."

He continued working with his hands and gave a soft reply.

Not long after, he was transferred to the logistics and accounting group because of his meticulousness, reliability, and neat handwriting.

The new office was filled with a suffocating mix of smells.

The musty smell of old, damp paper, the pungent ozone smell emanating from the old printer, the sour smell of leftover food fermenting in the corner trash can, and the faint odor wafting from the next cubicle.

In addition, there was the smell of burnt plastic from the overheated ballast of the old fluorescent light overhead.

When the air conditioner is turned off late at night, the sticky, humid heat wraps around you like a wet blanket, making your chest feel tight and even your breathing feel heavy.

The supervisor placed a thick stack of receipts on his desk, his expression indifferent: "Xiao Tang, check the accounts for these diamond powder recycling and raw materials. They need to be submitted within 3 days."

Tang Muyang accepted it with both hands and nodded.

He was used to repeatedly checking every number and comparing every loss until they matched perfectly before he would stop.

In his eyes, these numbers are not cold symbols, but rather a set of standards concerning survival and bottom lines.

That night, he was the only person left on the entire floor.

The dim lighting cast long, narrow shadows on the table.

The tabletop is covered with nearly three months' worth of diamond powder recycling records.

He held the old wooden abacus, moving the beads back and forth, the clattering sound echoing through the empty room.

Calculations were performed again and again, but the numbers were always slightly off, like an insurmountable chasm.

Unwilling to give up, he secretly slipped into the waste disposal area under the cover of night.

Squatting in the pungent dust, picking and comparing bit by bit, my fingertips were cut by the rough waste, and blood seeped out, but I didn't even notice.

For two whole days and two nights, he barely slept, and his eyes were bloodshot.

His mind was filled with dense numbers, and the frustrating feeling of "knowing there's a problem but not being able to find concrete evidence" was almost driving him crazy.

He reached out and picked up a small pile of powder, gently rubbing it between his fingertips.

The originally fine and uniform crystals contained unexpected diamond particles and adhesive residue.

The subtle, rough texture was more chilling to him than the numerical discrepancy.

To confirm this tactile sensation, he secretly slipped into the grinding wheel room to compare more than 10 grinding wheel formulas.

He even repeatedly tested the wound on his fingertips.

It was ultimately confirmed that this adulteration would accelerate the wear and tear on high-end equipment, and was not a simple recycling mistake at all.

It was done intentionally by someone, with the aim of crippling the entire production line.

His heart skipped a beat, and cold sweat instantly broke out on his back.

He looked at the empty room and muttered, "So someone really is thinking about messing with the scrap."

Cold sweat soaked through my clothes, sticking to my back and feeling icy cold, the chill creeping up my spine.

Fear tightened around his chest like vines, constricting his throat and causing spasms in his stomach.

He lay in bed, unable to sleep all night, his mind racing with three possible outcomes.

Exposing such a situation will inevitably touch upon core interests, leading to the same fate as that previous long-time employee, who mysteriously disappeared.

Silence will eventually lead to being scapegoated and doomed.

If someone flees, and is deemed negligent in their duty, they will carry this stain for life and never have a chance to rise again.

All three paths lead to a dead end.

He suddenly remembered what the senior colleague had said to him when he first joined the company: "Jade must be carved to become a useful object, and a person must be tempered to become a Buddha."

At that moment, he gritted his teeth and made the most difficult choice.

Do not expose, do not remain silent, do not run away; quietly leave evidence and lie low while waiting for the right opportunity.

He dared not make a fuss or report it, but quickly copied the key data into his notebook and put the original back in its place, as if nothing had happened.

Some truths, once revealed, bring not light, but utter danger.

The atmosphere in the factory area became increasingly tense.

Faction A, led by Gao Zhiyuan, and Faction B, led by another senior executive, are engaged in fierce competition for production capacity allocation and the right to speak, creating a climate of fear among the members.

A slight misstep could turn them into pawns to be discarded.

Even eating in the cafeteria has become a silent political stance.

Yesterday, colleagues who were arm in arm and sharing a dish with each other were now sitting at separate tables, their eyes cold and wary, as if they were complete strangers, because of their factional affiliations.

Tang Jianguo patted his arm and lowered his voice to remind him, "Speak less and do more lately, and don't get involved."

Tang Muyang gave a soft "hmm".

He witnessed a manager who had been honest for over a decade being publicly humiliated and fired on the spot at an all-staff meeting simply because he inadvertently chose the wrong side, without even a chance to defend himself.

The sight of the old employee kneeling on the ground, pleading desperately, was like a needle piercing Tang Muyang's heart.

The fear of the rabbit mourning the fox's death weighed heavily on him, making it hard to breathe.

The B faction's approach to dealing with him was like boiling a frog in lukewarm water.

First, they deliberately withheld his raw materials, forcing him to beg for them.

Then they secretly delayed his report review, making him restricted in every way.

Finally, when he was completely unprepared, they directly altered the data, plunging him into an abyss.

He just wanted to live a peaceful and quiet life, but trouble just happened to find him.

Faction B secretly altered the data he handled, creating the illusion of chaotic accounts and material shortages.

Faction A immediately launched an attack, and an accountability meeting was held overnight.

The atmosphere in the conference room was frighteningly tense.

The members of faction A crossed their legs, a mocking smile playing on their lips, as if they were watching a cat playing with a mouse.

The members of Faction B lowered their heads and drank their tea, their eyes darting around, concealing the panic in their hearts.

The neutral parties all hunched their shoulders and kept their heads bowed low, afraid of getting caught in the crossfire.

Gao Zhiyuan spoke, his tone cold and hard: "You handled the data, and now there's such a huge hole in it, how do you explain that?"

He casually tossed a cheap ballpoint pen onto the table.

The pen tip scraped across the paper, making a harsh "sizzle" sound, carrying a naked humiliation.

Tang Muyang looked up, his expression calm.

Only he knew that his palms were already soaked with cold sweat, and his heart was pounding wildly in his chest, almost bursting out of his chest.

He didn't argue, but slowly pulled a crumpled softcover notebook out of his pocket.

"On March 12, 213 raw materials were put into storage, with a loss of 4.7 grams. The person in charge was Sister Li."

"On March 18, 17 pieces were reworked, and 2.3 grams of diamond powder were recovered and stored in cabinet No. 3."

"On April 5th, the shipment was dispatched, and the loss was 0.05 grams, which I noted down that day."

He read it out word by word, including the date, amount, details handled, and storage location, without any error.

The entire room fell silent.

Gao Zhiyuan's playful expression gradually froze, and his face turned pale and then red.

The evidence is irrefutable, and the person who orchestrated the scheme has nowhere to hide.

Tang Muyang walked out of the conference room, his legs slightly weak, his back completely soaked with sweat.

Peng Jiahui caught up, lowered his voice, and looked scared: "You really dared to say that just now."

Tang Muyang took a light breath, but his eyes showed a hint of coldness.

He finally understood that there was no human touch here, only self-interest.

There is no right or wrong, only winning or losing.

From that moment on, the boy who only knew how to bury himself in his work began to truly show his talent.

The following year, the group began to sort out its old archives.

The archives room is perpetually dark, cold, and damp.

Dust swirled and danced in the narrow beam of light, like countless prying eyes, sending chills down one's spine.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of mothballs and rotting paper, making people frown slightly.

The archives clerk opened the door and instructed, "Xiao Tang, could you please organize the old documents in this safe?"

Tang Muyang responded and bent down to move the filing cabinet.

My fingertips suddenly touched a neatly folded piece of paper in the safe's inner compartment.

He pulled it out and took a look, and his breath hitched.

Forged official seals, trap clauses, and the practice of transferring shares to mysterious offshore companies at rock-bottom prices if profits are not met.

This is a long-planned hostile takeover; once triggered, the group's decades of hard work will be easily plundered.

His fingertips trembled, and he dared not take the original document with him.

He could only take out his watch repair tools, open the side cover of the copier, and take advantage of the paper jam to quickly photograph the key pages.

He put the agreement back exactly as it was and wiped all traces clean.

He leaned against the cold cabinet wall and whispered to himself, "Don't touch it, don't keep it, just let them bite each other."

At this moment, he was no longer just a craftsman who buried himself in his work.

He began to understand strategy, self-preservation, and survival.

But the crisis was not over.

His act of kindness in lending money to Peng Jiahui in his time of need was maliciously distorted.

An anonymous whistleblower letter was sent directly to senior management, accusing him of embezzling donations and misappropriating group assets.

The supervisor slammed the complaint letter on the table, his face ashen: "Do you know how serious this is?"

Tang Muyang stood there, unable to utter a single word.

He was suspended from his post, investigated, and isolated by everyone.

The security captain led his men into his dormitory and ransacked it like robbers.

The bed was overturned, the clothes were torn to shreds, and even the only family photo his mother had sent from their hometown was trampled underfoot and shattered into pieces.

Tang Muyang's pupils contracted sharply, his fists clenched tightly, his nails digging into his palms, drawing blood.

Anger and a sense of powerlessness overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

The dormitory was ransacked, with clothes scattered all over the floor.

His coworkers would avoid him as if he were a plague.

The cafeteria worker deliberately humiliated him by throwing a spoiled, moldy steamed bun into his bowl.

A burst of shrill laughter erupted from all around.

Tang Muyang remained expressionless, slowly picked up the steamed bun, and swallowed it bite by bite.

That wasn't cowardice, but the kind of forbearance that Han Xin endured by crawling between someone's legs.

It is about swallowing all humiliation and transforming it into the power to fight back against all odds.

A coworker, with whom he usually got along fairly well, rushed up, punched him in the shoulder, and yelled, "What are you pretending to be so high and mighty for! You've ruined our year-end bonuses!"

A dull, heavy pain came, but Tang Muyang didn't flinch.

A betrayal from the bottom is more chilling than a scheme from the top.

That night, a torrential downpour turned the world into a white expanse.

The rain pounded against the dormitory windowsill, making a crackling sound, like countless needles piercing my heart, or a cold trial.

He was squatting in the corner of the stairwell, soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his forehead, and his vision blurred.

Despair overwhelmed him like a tidal wave, almost suffocating him.

Rainwater slid down my cheeks and flowed into my mouth, salty and bitter, making it hard to tell if it was rainwater or tears.

Just as he was about to be swallowed by darkness, the old man in the gatehouse quietly came over and slipped a letter into his hand.

The envelope had no stamp, but the handwriting was neat and strong.

It was Xiao Xiaoyan.

After their feelings for each other faded, she returned to her hometown to focus on her high school studies and dedicate herself to her education and future, without disturbing them any further.

The letter contained only one line: "Rather than being a pawn here, it's better to jump off the chessboard."

Tang Muyang gripped the letter tightly, his knuckles turning white, and his whole body trembled violently.

He, who had been on the defensive, was completely awakened at this moment.

He no longer sought reconciliation, nor did he expect mercy.

He compiled and packaged all the data on diamond powder, fake official seals and agreements, and traces of factional manipulation.

Taking advantage of a trip to transport samples, the evidence was hidden in a concealed compartment of the gemstone gift box.

It was eventually handed over to the inspection team at the Hong Kong headquarters through a middle-level manager who had long been dissatisfied with the internal corruption.

The entire process was fraught with danger; every step was like walking on thin ice, and the slightest misstep could lead to utter ruin.

The truth came out, and headquarters was furious.

A purge swept through the entire factory, corrupt middle-level managers fell one after another, and the once powerful factions collapsed overnight.

The gloom that had hung over the factory area finally dissipated.

A senior executive at headquarters invited him to have tea alone, the teacup steaming.

The other party's tone was complex yet blunt: "You've done a great service this time, but you also know too much. If you stay where you are, you'll be targeted sooner or later. Being sent abroad is both for protection and a sign of your importance."

Tang Muyang lowered his head slightly, understood the implied meaning, and nodded calmly.

After the Spring Festival, Tang Muyang returned to the factory.

The group immediately convened a general manager's office meeting, and on the same day the meeting ended, the human resources manager formally spoke with him.

The HR manager pushed the transfer order in front of him, speaking formally: "After deliberation by the group, it has been decided to promote you to head of the new base in the southeast coastal region. You will be stationed here and will be in overall charge of production, management, and quality control."

Tang Muyang reached out and took it, his fingertips touching the paper with a steady and powerful touch.

This is not exile, but recognition he earned through three years of hard work.

This is proof that someone has truly transformed from a technical backbone into a manager.

On the day I left, the factory area was filled with all sorts of people.

His former coworkers, who used to avoid him, now looked away and appeared ashamed.

The cafeteria lady who had once humiliated him lowered her head, not daring to look at him.

Even his impulsive colleague who hit him stood far away in a corner, his expression complicated.

Tang Muyang ignored it, showing no resentment or lingering affection.

He gently patted the dust off his clothes, turned around, and boarded the bus.

As the car drove along the highway, license plates starting with "闽" (Fujian) kept flashing past the window.

We headed towards a brand new city on the southeast coast.

There are no real place names, and no further explanation.

The road ahead is vast and the future is promising.

He took one last look at the factory area where he had once worked so hard.

Xiao Xiaoyan focused on her studies in her hometown, while everyone else went their separate ways, without disturbing each other, and each lived their own lives peacefully.

Tang Jianguo and Peng Jiahui stayed at the old factory to stabilize the foundation at home.

The trio of teenagers, each guarding their own territory, await their reunion.

And he finally became his own pillar of support after three years of trials and tribulations.

From then on, he set off alone to the southeast, embarking on a brand new journey.