The Self-Cultivation of a Reborn Massage Therapist

Chapter 272 Wang Xiulan's Financial Future

At 11 p.m., the workshop of Jin Dayang Textile Factory, which was set up for the "Relaxed and Slow Travel" program, was brightly lit.

Wang Xiulan was skillfully operating the textile machine in front of her. The roar of the machine was no longer noise to her. With good treatment, even the loudest noise sounded pleasant to her.

According to the "Relax and Slow Down" policy, night shift workers not only receive extra subsidies, but also have a mandatory 15-minute break every two hours of work.

The lounge offers free tea and meals, a privilege she never dared to dream of before. She plans to work for another two months and then enroll her child in another tutoring class.

Suddenly, a piercing long beep shattered the noise of the workshop.

All the machines that were running at high speed suddenly came to a stop.

After the loud noise caused by inertia subsided, the entire workshop fell silent, with only the overhead exhaust fans still humming.

The workers stopped what they were doing and looked at each other in astonishment.

The workshop supervisor, his face stern, walked in carrying a handheld megaphone. He cleared his throat, and his cold voice, amplified by the electrical current, resonated throughout every corner:
"Attention all staff! We have received an urgent notice from the company! Due to a major adjustment to the production plan, all production tasks in this workshop are to be suspended immediately! Everyone, leave your workstations immediately, gather your personal belongings, and leave work! To reiterate, production is suspended, everyone leave work immediately!"

An uproar immediately erupted from the crowd.

"What's going on? What time is it?"

"Canceled? Aren't our orders booked until the end of the year?"

Ignoring the questions from the crowd, the supervisor raised his voice, his tone firm and unyielding:
"Stop arguing! Starting tomorrow, everyone will follow the HR department's instructions and return to their original production line positions! Wages and benefits will remain the same as before! Now, leave the workshop immediately!"

"Go back to the way things were?"

"According to the original standard?"

These two words were like two buckets of ice water, poured over everyone's heads.

Wang Xiulan felt a chill run from her feet to the top of her head. She instinctively grabbed a familiar coworker, Sister Li, her voice trembling slightly:

"Sister Li... what he meant by 'original standard'... does that mean it's back to normal? No night shift allowance, no public allowance..."

Sister Li's face was even worse than hers. She lowered her voice and said through gritted teeth, "It's more than that! Back in the old workshop, it's twelve-hour shifts again. Even going to the toilet is timed, and being a minute late means half a day's pay is deducted..."

Wang Xiulan stood frozen in place, staring blankly at the brand-new machine in front of her. Just moments ago, she had been operating it to create a bright future for herself.

And now...

…………

At the same time, in the office of the head of a department at a university of political science and law in Beijing.

The office was so large it felt empty, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on two walls, surrounding a large, heavy desk in the center.

Qian Tu didn't knock; he simply pushed the door open and entered, placing a delicate lunchbox on the corner of the table before sitting down in a chair.

Behind the table, an elderly man with gray hair but a sprightly spirit took off his reading glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, glanced at Qian Tu, and then slowly pulled the lunchbox in front of him.

"Your speech is clearer now?" The old man opened the lunchbox, saw the abundant dishes inside, and nodded with satisfaction. He nodded again, his tone flat, neither revealing whether he was concerned nor simply stating something.

"Aren't your migraines and chronic gastritis relieved now?" Qian Tu retorted sharply.

Seeing that the old man didn't respond, but instead picked up a piece of braised pork with a good balance of fat and lean meat, he immediately felt deflated and complained, "Dad, I used my most valuable employee benefits this year to invite the boss for you, not to make you continue working like a workaholic here!"

"At school, call me Dean Qian." The old man took a moment to eat a piece of greasy braised pork.

“I’m not a student at this school,” Qian Tu muttered under his breath. “If I had known you would do this, I would have given this year’s opportunity to my mother so she could try for high blood pressure treatment.”

"It's better if your mother is a bit plump..." Seemingly unwilling to mention the shrew in the house, Dean Qian put down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and asked, "Has that kid really made up his mind?"

Qian Tu was asked a question that seemed rather odd: "Decid on what?"

"Fight those people head-on?" Dean Qian was quite modern, and his words were in line with the times.

Qian Tu didn't answer directly. He leaned back in his chair, spread his hands, and looked utterly confused and resentful: "What did we do wrong?"

In his view, "Easy and Slow" doesn't engage in prepayment or tricks, but lets results speak for themselves; they treat their employees well and even proactively ask contract manufacturers to improve workers' benefits.

All of this, even if it doesn't deserve praise, should at least be encouraged. Alternatively, we could simply ignore it—of course, as a legal professional, Qian Tu knows how naive that idea is.

“You did nothing wrong.” Dean Qian’s voice was as calm as a frozen lake. “On the contrary, you did the ‘right’ thing.”

He looked at his son and said, word by word, "In this world, what is there that is simply black and white, right and wrong? What exists are only deeply ingrained rules and interests!"

"Your very existence is a denial of those rules! If their workers start demanding a 'relaxed and slow' standard... Qian Tu, you need to understand, this isn't business competition, it's a battle of ideologies. Once it starts, it's a fight to the death!"

Qian Tu shrugged and remained silent.

Dean Qian said no more. He tidied up the empty lunchbox, pushed it in front of his son, pointed to the mountain of documents on the table, and gave him the order to leave: "Besides bringing food, you don't have anything else to do, do you?"

"Hehe," Qian Tu immediately put on a fawning smile, "Dad, I do have a small favor to ask of you."

Dean Qian put his reading glasses back on, his gaze returning to the documents, and replied without looking up, "If it's official business, the only thing I can guarantee is fairness and impartiality in court."

“That won’t work!” Qian Tu immediately complained. “Their legal department is full of top lawyers. What if they fight a procedural battle with us? Just one jurisdictional objection will drag on for three to five years, and then there will be endless new evidence, new expert opinions, and new witnesses!”

Dean Qian's fingers, which had been flipping through the documents, stopped. He slowly raised his head and stared at his son through his reading glasses.

"Don't worry," he said calmly, "that won't happen."

"How can I be at ease?" Qian Tu said anxiously, his voice rising involuntarily. "Those lawyers are experts at finding loopholes in civil and commercial law. If they manage to find even one..."

"Get out!" A furious shout echoed in the empty office. Dean Qian slammed his fist on the table, pointed at his son's nose, and yelled, "I was one of the drafters of those regulations! Do they understand them, or do I?! You think you're all grown up now, daring to tell me what to do?!"

Seeing his father get angry, Qian Tu was startled and hurriedly grabbed the lunchbox and fled.

(End of this chapter)