Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

Two security guards held Zhou Yuanzhi on either side. Their movements weren't particularly rough, but the force was enough for anyone passing by to immediately recognize that this was an escort.

Director Qian certainly saw those phones being held up, but he didn't even lift an eyelid, let alone turn around to stop them.

The security guard clearly understood this meaning as well.

Zhou Yuanzhi remembered that the security guard to his left was surnamed Chen. This guy would usually step forward to stop people from taking pictures when he saw them at the gate downstairs, but today he kept his head down the whole time, afraid that his face would affect the image quality.

Another security guard was even more audacious. I don't know how much shoulder wear fee he had collected in advance, but when he opened the company door, he slammed it against the wall with a loud bang, which was heard throughout the entire corridor.

Before the elevator doors closed, the last thing Zhou Yuanzhi saw was Fang Jie's expression.

Fang Jie was still holding her phone, but she had already put down her coffee.

Her gaze was complex, not one of mockery or sympathy, but rather the instinctive, yet inescapable, complex feeling one has after witnessing a car accident.

First floor lobby.

4:30 p.m. is a peak time for visitors to come and go.

People wearing various name tags moved around in the lobby. Some people came out of the elevator carrying briefcases, while others sat on the sofa in the waiting area looking down at their phones. Several girls at the front desk were answering their phones. Everyone saw Zhou Yuanzhi being pulled off the elevator with his feet off the ground.

Zhou Yuanzhi was squeezed out of the revolving door, and the sunlight drenched his head and face.

Thirty or forty pairs of eyes swept over at the same time: people squatting in the square smoking, people carrying oden outside the convenience store, and real estate agents coming down from the office building next door for some fresh air.

The two people closest to the phone tentatively raised their hands, and the security guard not only didn't stop them, but also deliberately turned his face to the sides.

Director Qian stood inside the revolving door, a paper cup of coffee in his hand, which he had somehow acquired. He was blowing on the steam rising from the cup, as if everything outside the door had nothing to do with him.

Two security guards carried Zhou Yuanzhi straight across the square, past the zebra crossing, and kept carrying him until they reached the flower bed on the other side of the road before letting go.

After letting go, Xiao Chen took two steps back and quickly flicked his sleeve. Zhou Yuanzhi recognized that gesture; it was the same gesture he made every time he finished smoking and flicked his cigarette butt down the drain.

Zhou Yuanzhi looked down at his Oxford shoe, which had been slipped off during the struggle, revealing a dark gray sock with a small hole worn through at the big toe.

……

I curse your mothers...

Overwhelmed by the immense humiliation, Zhou Yuanzhi didn't even have time to consider arbitration or lawsuits; he just wanted to go home as soon as possible and escape everyone's gaze.

He didn't know how he got home. He probably took a taxi, probably paid the fare with his phone, probably the driver glanced at him several times in the rearview mirror along the way, but he couldn't quite remember.

When he got home, the first thing he did was take off his suit and throw it into the laundry basket. The second thing he did was stand under the shower for almost twenty minutes.

I had just finished showering when the doorbell rang.

The property manager was standing outside the door, and next to him stood a man in a suit carrying a briefcase.

The property manager stated formally: After an emergency discussion by the owners' committee, it was determined that Mr. Zhou's current situation has negatively impacted the legitimate rights and interests of the owners in this community. They requested that he list the property for sale as soon as possible and temporarily move out before the sale.

Zhou Yuanzhi leaned against the door frame, his hair dripping wet, and laughed angrily: "Damn it, even the homeowners' association in the United States doesn't have this power, okay?"

The property manager looked at him with pity.

In the middle of the night, Zhou Yuanzhi's door was slashed for five minutes.

Trembling, I turned on the surveillance footage and saw that the person who performed the surgery was an elderly woman around eighty years old.

Judging from her outward emotions, the elderly woman's mental health issues were quite evident; her physical condition was even more alarming—this old lady seemed to be suffering from at least seven or eight layers of underlying health problems…

159. Let me treat you to a meal.

By this point, Zhou Yuanzhi no longer cared about the risks of collusion.

He inquired from all directions.

Zhou Yuanzhi soon realized that he was not lonely at all.

Old Zheng is now the technical director of a design institute. His biggest project is an urban renovation project in cooperation with the local government. The contract is for two years and the first phase is almost ready for acceptance.

In the afternoon, Party A sent an official letter with extremely careful wording: "Given the uncertain impact that the project leader's personal circumstances may have on the project's social evaluation, after careful consideration, we have decided to terminate the cooperation."

Old Zheng said he would rather the other party just curse him out, at least then he would have something to say back, but the other party didn't even give him that chance.

Lin's side was even more straightforward.

Lin is a senior partner at a multinational consulting firm. His office is in the China World Trade Center Phase 3, with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the CCTV building.

The company's handling of the situation was exactly the same as Zhou Yuanzhi's. When he arrived at work in the morning, his employee card could not be swiped to open the gate. The receptionist politely asked him to wait in the small conference room, but instead of HR, he was greeted by security guards.

Almost all of the eyewitnesses we contacted were laid off.

The reasons given were varied, including "organizational restructuring," "failure to meet performance targets," and "serious violation of company rules and regulations." As for what the "rules and regulations" were, no one said, nor was it necessary to say.

We've all been in this business for over a decade; who doesn't know the difference between "finding a reason to fire someone" and "firing someone directly"?

The former is afraid of getting into trouble, while the latter is afraid of getting into even bigger trouble.

Now, these companies don't even bother to differentiate themselves anymore, because the biggest trouble is already under their company names.

By the way, what's so special about Zhou Yuanzhi being evicted from his residential compound?

There are also those who are politely expelled by the county or municipal government! ... Of course, they wouldn't be as rude as the property management of a residential community.

One of the team members from back then now runs a manufacturing company in a prefecture-level city in central China, his hometown. It's not a large company, but it's doing quite well.

Three days after the post was published, a joint enforcement team from the city came to the door, including market supervision, taxation, and emergency management departments.

The enforcement team members were friendly, conducted the law in a civilized manner, and followed the law and regulations. They checked everything from morning to afternoon, from fire exits to tax invoices, from sewage discharge permits to special equipment annual inspections.

As for the compliance level of private enterprises, we're all in business, who can withstand such scrutiny?

In the end, a bunch of problems were found. Every problem actually existed, every problem had a legal basis, and every problem was enough to warrant a rectification notice.

The last item in the rectification notice is "It is recommended that the company's main management personnel strengthen their study of laws and regulations and enhance their awareness of compliant operation."

Zhou Yuanzhi stood in his living room, holding his phone. Beside him was the security door with a gap cut into it, and in the kitchen sink were piles of dishes that hadn't been washed for two days.

He suddenly realized that being evicted from the community was nothing serious. No matter how fierce the homeowners' committee was, it was just that an old man would come and chop at the door with a kitchen knife in the middle of the night.

When the joint enforcement team comes to your door, you really don't know where to start with the rectification, because you know in your heart that the problem is not whether your company is compliant or not, but that you are not compliant just by standing there.

The plight of Zhou Yuanzhi and others was quickly posted online.

The first to emerge were a batch of anonymous posts from "former colleagues," with surprisingly consistent wording: first stating that their relationship with the person in question was limited to work, then emphasizing that they were completely unaware of the person's past behavior, and finally concluding that "personal behavior does not represent the company's values."

Then came the neighbors' voices, mostly filled with righteous indignation: Why should the whole building depreciate along with you because of your misdeeds? Did we go hiking? Did we cause trouble for others?

Further on, those more neutral insiders pieced together several things: who was laid off, whose project was cancelled, which factory was investigated, and which was "tactfully" persuaded to leave by the county.

The comment section for the university rankings quickly became lively.

"That's called retribution."

"What's the point of complaining about the sins we committed back then?"

"Aren't these companies overthinking things? Compared to so many big companies around the world that commit such terrible crimes, what are they?"

One comment got a lot of likes, almost matching the number of popular replies, but it received very few replies.

It consists of only a few short lines:

"In essence, the Da Yang government outwardly expressed that everything was fine, but the list of unethical individuals had already been tactfully included in the performance evaluation lists of local governments: the fewer people on the list, the less reason for them to attract attention."

"You must be talking nonsense. How could something this big be pushed forward so quickly?"

Are you questioning the sensitivity of bureaucrats at all levels?

"I have doubts about the ability of officials at all levels to implement policies!"

--------

Around noon, Zhang Qiliang received a food delivery order.

The destination was a manufacturing company called "Yongtong Electronics" in the industrial park. Its main business was power adapters. It was of medium size, with two factory buildings and one dormitory. It wasn't big, but it had some technological content.

Zhang Qiliang put the takeout down on the windowsill and was about to speak when the person inside looked up.

"It's you?" Zhang Qiliang was a little surprised.

The boy opposite was Wang Hai, the little guy who was wandering around the station in the middle of the night.

"Brother Ming!" Wang Hai was much more surprised than Zhang Qiliang, bracing himself on the windowsill with both hands, almost knocking over the takeout. "It really is you!"

“Yes,” Zhang Qi nodded, pushing the takeout further inside. “Were you looking for me?”

Wang Hai nodded quickly.

Wang Hai had wanted to find Zhang Qiliang for a long time.

Previously, Wang Hai had no way to contact Zhang Qiliang. Later, Zhang Qiliang went to the United States and after he returned, there were more controls around the Xicheng District station, especially around the Cancer Hospital. The reason was impeccable: since you are healthy, you shouldn't affect the efficiency of public health facilities in serving the people.

Wang Hai was such an honest kid, he immediately retreated obediently and could only come up with a half-baked solution: ordering takeout once a day.

"What is it?" Zhang Qiliang asked.

The matter is quite simple.

"Brother Ming, I'd like to invite you to dinner." Wang Hai was a little embarrassed. "I was young and didn't know any better back then. I was only in a hurry to find a job and didn't know how to thank you... My dad has already scolded me."

"Haha," Zhang Qiliang looked at the takeout he had just put down, "What do we do with this?"

"That's easy, I'll just keep it for dinner!" Upon hearing Zhang Qiliang's agreement, Wang Hai jumped up, grabbed the takeout, and ran out. But when he reached the door, he remembered to turn back. "I'll put it in the fridge first. The communal kitchen is a bit far... I'll be right back."

Zhang Qiliang looked around the dormitory.

The four-person room had bunk beds, with the sheets and blankets neatly folded and two pairs of clean sneakers drying on the windowsill.

The fact that they provided a communal kitchen under these conditions shows the factory has put in a lot of effort.

When Wang Hai returned, Zhang Qiliang had already taken off his work clothes and put on a T-shirt.

As the two went downstairs together, Wang Hai was surprised to find that the coworkers they encountered on the way just nodded casually. Some even waved to Zhang Qiliang as if they saw a familiar face, but they were just ordinary familiar faces.

Wang Hai glanced at Zhang Qiliang, who simply smiled slightly. Wang Hai was a little confused, but not bothered by it.

Along the way, Wang Hai talked about his recent situation.

The monthly salary is around 3,500 yuan, which is not high, but you only work eight hours a day and have two days off per week.

At first, some veteran workers complained that their income was a little less than before, but since the wages were paid on time and the factory did its best to provide hot water and cooking facilities, everyone gradually settled down and continued working.

The place where Wang Hai hosted the dinner wasn't far, just on the street outside the factory area.

The restaurant, spanning two storefronts, was kept clean. The menus, handwritten with neat handwriting, were placed under a glass panel.

Restaurants in this type of location primarily cater to the local working class, so prices should be...

Zhang Qiliang flipped through the menu, and lo and behold, it wasn't exactly a bargain.

He glanced at Wang Hai.

The boy scratched the back of his head and smiled: "My dad chose it."

Alright, since that's the case, Zhang Qiliang didn't stand on ceremony and ordered three dishes and a soup.

It was already a bit past lunchtime, but the waiters served the food quite quickly.

Zhang Qiliang picked up a piece of shredded pork with green peppers with his chopsticks, chewed it, and then tasted the soup.

The taste and portion size are definitely worth the price, and even slightly exceed it.

Halfway through the meal, several government officials in different uniforms walked in, followed by a middle-aged man.

The head of the blue-clad market inspectors shook hands with the boss who came out from behind the cashier: "Old Zhang, Boss Qi has honored us with his presence today. Would you like to discuss this here, or at our bureau?"

"Anything is fine with me," Old Zhang said, rubbing his hands together.

"I can too," the middle-aged man following behind said calmly.

“Then you landlord and tenant can discuss it properly here,” the market inspector said, glancing around the shop. Only Zhang Qiliang and Wang Hai’s table remained. He pointed to a corner in the opposite direction, “Go to that table. Keep your voices down and don’t disturb the guests.”

The group walked over and sat down.

"Let me start by saying," the market supervision department spoke first, "Mr. Qi, we do not support your request to raise rents starting this month."

"Then what's there to discuss?" Boss Qi frowned.

"There are some things I need to let you know." The market inspector pulled out several documents from his briefcase and spread them out on the table. "According to Mr. Zhang, you've been coming over to discuss rent increases every mealtime these past few days, is that right?"

"That's the only time I'm free," Boss Qi replied casually.

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to make time for that.” The market supervisor shook his head and pushed the top document forward. “According to the ‘Notice on Regulating the Business Order of Supporting Commercial Facilities in Industrial Parks’ jointly issued by the Municipal Market Supervision Administration and the Industrial Park Management Committee, during the normal business hours of a merchant, no one may repeatedly interfere with their business activities for non-business reasons. Mr. Zhang’s shop is only open for lunch for two hours. It’s not reasonable for you to come and discuss rent increases every day at mealtimes.”

Boss Qi's lips twitched, but he didn't reply.

“There’s one more thing,” the Transport Department officer chimed in, “Mr. Zhang reported that you’ve been parking your car in front of the restaurant every mealtime these past few days. Is that true?”