"...So, Lin Ke, after a comprehensive review, the company has concluded that your personal development philosophy doesn't quite align with our 'aggressive go-getter' corporate culture."
Zhang Wei, the HR Director, slid a document across the desk toward Lin Ke. His eyes behind his glasses were devoid of any emotion, his tone as flat as if he were reading a weather forecast.
"This is your termination agreement and severance package. Just sign here, and we can get all the paperwork done today."
Lin Ke's gaze wasn't on the document that sealed his fate, but fixed on Zhang Wei's greasy face. He remembered it clearly. Six months ago, it was this same face, spitting saliva as it passionately declared in a meeting, "This company is your home, and we are all family here."
Family?
Lin Ke's throat tightened. A torrent of humiliation and rage churned in his chest, but it got stuck in his throat, unable to form a single word.
What could he say?
That he had worked until three in the morning for fifteen consecutive days for that damn project, eating twenty-six takeout meals at his desk? Or that the "wolf" who had taken all the credit for the project's success and now sat in the director's chair was once the team leader he had trusted the most?
Saying it all out loud would only earn him a dismissive, "That's just how the professional world works, you need to learn to adapt," and make him the butt of another joke during the department's coffee breaks.
"What, not satisfied with the severance?" Zhang Wei seemed to be growing impatient, tapping his finger on the desk. "Lin Ke, you should know when you've got a good deal. According to the rules, we don't have to pay a dime for letting you go at the end of your probation period. This N+1 package is the best I could fight for you."
His voice wasn't loud, but in the pin-drop silence of the office, it was piercingly sharp.
Lin Ke could feel dozens of eyes on him from all directions—some pitying, some gloating, some numb... Each gaze felt like a steel needle pricking his back, paralyzing him.
Slowly, he raised his hand and picked up the cold pen. He didn't look at the terms of the agreement, just mechanically signed his name at the bottom. He had written those three characters for over twenty years, but they had never felt so foreign and powerless.
"Good. Quick and clean." Zhang Wei retrieved the document with a satisfied air, forcing a professional, fake smile. "HR will take you through the offboarding process. From now on... you're on your own."
For the next hour, Lin Ke felt like a puppet on strings, led by HR through various departments—signing papers, handing over his work, returning his ID badge. Everything he had once known was being methodically and coldly severed from him.
Finally, holding a cardboard box containing a few books and a water bottle, he stood by the elevators.
Behind him, the world he had fought for over the past year was still brightly lit, the clatter of keyboards continuing unabated, as if no one had ever left.
The elevator doors slid shut, reflecting his pale, vacant face.
Ping.
His phone screen lit up. A notification from his bank.
[Your account ending in 6678 received a deposit of $8,547.34 on September 26th at 18:03.]
This was the last payment for his youth and health.
Before any feeling could register, a second message popped up.
[Dear customer, your rent bill has been generated. Please pay $4,500 by the 30th of this month.]
Then a third, a fourth...
[Loan Payment Reminder: Your payment of $2,188 is due this month.]
[Credit Card Reminder: Your card ending in...]
Each red number was a small hammer, striking his frayed nerves. The severance pay that had just arrived was instantly carved up, and what was left wasn't even enough to cover next month's groceries.
An overwhelming sense of powerlessness washed over him like a tidal wave.
He didn't know how he walked out of that glittering office building, nor how long he wandered the streets. The city's clamor, the endless traffic—it all felt like it was happening behind a thick pane of glass. He was a ghost, drifting aimlessly through a concrete jungle that didn't belong to him.
When he finally surfaced from his daze, he found that he had unknowingly walked into an area that was completely out of place with the surrounding skyscrapers.
It was the old city's flea market.
Under the dim yellow streetlights, simple stalls were spread out along the street, displaying all sorts of trinkets, old books, and paintings of dubious authenticity. The air was thick with the peculiar smell of dust and mothballs.
Unlike the fast-paced city outside, time seemed to slow down here. The market-goers were mostly leisurely old men, shining flashlights on piles of "junk," haggling with vendors over a dollar or two, filled with a peaceful, worldly atmosphere.
Lin Ke walked in as if drawn by an unseen force. He instinctively wanted to hide in this corner forgotten by time, to escape the reality that was suffocating him.
He walked aimlessly, paying no mind to the goods on either side, until his feet came to a stop in the most remote and deserted corner of the market.
It was a stall with almost no customers. The vendor was an old man with white hair and a white beard, leaning back in a recliner with his eyes closed, seemingly one with the night.
What caught Lin Ke's eye was the only "large item" on display.
It was a square, wooden sandbox.
It looked ancient. The wooden frame was a deep, dark red, covered in dust and fine scratches. The box was filled with a layer of fine grey sand, and nothing else.
It had no exquisite carvings, no strange design; it was as plain as a discarded children's toy. Yet, for some reason, Lin Ke couldn't tear his eyes away from it.
He crouched down, and as if possessed, reached out to touch its timeworn surface.
"You like it, young man?"
A raspy, ancient voice sounded by his ear.
Lin Ke jumped. He realized the old vendor in the recliner had opened his eyes at some point and was now quietly watching him. His eyes were cloudy, yet uncannily bright, as if they could see right through to the deepest exhaustion and resentment in a person's soul.
"I... I was just looking," Lin Ke said, hastily pulling his hand back.
The old man didn't close his eyes again. He sat up straight and said slowly, "This thing's been sitting here for a long time. No one knows its true worth."
He patted the frame of the sandbox, making a dull thud.
"They all think it's junk, but they don't know... it holds a world inside."
Lin Ke froze. A world? Was the old man crazy, or was this some kind of jargon he didn't understand?
But the old man's next words struck his chaotic mind like a bolt of lightning.
His piercing eyes locked onto Lin Ke's, and in a tone that was both deadly serious and slightly seductive, he asked, word by word:
"Young man, I can see the defiance in your heart. I'll give you a chance."
"Use all the money you have on you. Buy it. Buy yourself a chance to change your destiny."
"Do you dare?"
In that instant, Lin Ke's mind went completely blank.
His boss's mockery, his colleagues' stares, the cold, hard numbers on his bills, a future with no hope... Everything that was crushing him seemed to ignite at the old man's words.
Reason told him it was just a cheap trick from a common swindler.
But his heart was pounding wildly in his chest, screaming at him.
Take the gamble!
You've already got nothing, what more can you lose?
A reckless, almost self-destructive impulse he couldn't comprehend instantly took over his entire being.
He shot to his feet, his bloodshot eyes staring back at the old man, and squeezed a single word from between his teeth:
"Fine!"
He didn't haggle, didn't hesitate. He took out his phone and, with a quick scan, transferred every last cent of his severance pay—money he hadn't even had a chance to warm his hands with. Then, under the old man's faintly smiling gaze, he bent down, and with all his strength, lifted the incredibly heavy sandbox.
It was heavy, so heavy it made him stagger, but he felt no fatigue. Instead, a sense of absurd, resolute exhilaration filled him.
Clutching the "world" he had