Rebirth 04: Starting from Taking an Unconventional Approach

"Hello." The man's voice was deep and warm. He stepped forward and extended a hand, seemingly ignoring the fact that Wen Jie was holding the box with both hands and could not shake hands.

Wen Jie nodded absentmindedly, guessing that he must be a headhunter or a client.

"My name is Han Fei, and I am a documentary writer," the man said, pulling his hand back and adjusting his sunglasses, which were already perched high on his nose. "I am writing a book about the Internet, and I am currently conducting interviews and surveys of Internet professionals."

"I see," Wen Jie said, thinking to himself, "No wonder I've been seeing that car so much these past few days. Are writers really that lucrative these days?"

"Are you an engineer at NetEase?"

"Yeah, it was like that half an hour ago." Wen Jie chuckled wryly, shifted his stance, and transferred the weight of the box onto his right leg.

"Let me help you."

Before Wen Jie could refuse, Han Fei snatched the box from his hands, almost grabbing it, leaving Wen Jie bewildered and at a loss.

"Uh... thank you."

"What's your name?"

Wen Jie said his name.

"Why did you leave?" Han Fei asked. "As far as I know, NetEase's compensation is considered very generous even by national standards."

Wen Jie put his hands behind his head, tilted his neck back, and exhaled: "The accumulated pressure has exploded."

Han Fei grinned, forming a faint smile: "How about we find a place to talk? Talking to someone is usually the most effective way to relieve stress, and your experience will be very helpful to my writing."

"But......"

"Let's go, I'll treat you to dinner."

Han Fei turned and walked toward the Land Rover without waiting for Wen Jie's reply.

Wen Jie stood there, squinting at the wide road with few vehicles, the hot air he inhaled making his mouth dry.

His intuition told him that the best thing to do now was to go home, lie on the sofa, drink an iced beverage, watch a movie he liked, relax, and then prepare his resume to look for a new job. Besides, he didn't think that giving an interview to a writer would help relieve his stress. But his suitcase was in Han Fei's hands.

The Land Rover drove onto the road.

Wen Jie sat in the passenger seat, watching the glass curtain wall of the NetEase building gradually disappear into the distance in the rearview mirror.

"What an impressive building," Han Fei said. "How many years have you worked here?"

"Three years," Wen Jie said, leaning back in his seat and feeling the cold air coming out of the car's air conditioning unit.

"That's quite a long time. How did you feel when you left?"

Wen Jie pondered for a moment: "I have some free time, and I also feel a bit... triumphant. I look forward to the day when I can see these people helpless, embarrassed, and regretful without me."

Han Fei laughed heartily: "Have you ever heard a story about an old actor who, in his last scene before retiring, deliberately mispronounced one line—just one line. He said he wanted to see if a play he'd performed in for thirty years would collapse if there was one imperfection."

"And the result?"

"As a result, no one noticed, not even the most loyal fans in the audience. After that, he felt relieved, realizing that what he thought was indispensable was often just his own illusion."

Wen Jie turned his head to look at Han Fei, as if his head was so heavy that he almost lost his balance.

"Can you tell me about your experience later?" Han Fei asked, driving the Land Rover to a temporary parking lot outside a hot pot restaurant. The car paused, letting out a sigh of relief.

The two got out of the car and strode towards the hot pot restaurant.

After ordering, the staff led them to a private room on the second floor.

The smallest private room in the restaurant is for eight people. Two people sat at a huge round wooden table, like two ants who had mistakenly entered the United Nations General Assembly.

"So," Han Fei said, stuffing a roll of beef covered in sauce into his mouth, "you worked on the system for two months, and they just cut it like that?"

"Hmm, a content management system that can improve the editorial department's work efficiency by 30%, but doesn't show any direct benefits."

Wen Jie stared directly at Han Fei. The fluorescent light shone on his face, making it clear that the blood vessels in his eyes were visible.

"And then you resigned?"

"Otherwise," Wen Jie said, his mouth full of food, "Although I also want to be as rich as you, I just can't accept that my hard work is being looked down upon for no reason, or that kind of deceitful work atmosphere."

"What are your plans for the future?"

"I should have made up my mind by now, but you insisted on dragging me here."

Han Fei glanced at him, nodded slowly, then looked down at the tablecloth and slid his chopsticks across it.

The tablecloth is made of cotton and linen and has a lotus flower pattern printed on it.

Han Fei stared at the tablecloth thoughtfully for a while before speaking: "During the Jiajing era of the Ming Dynasty, there was a weaver in Suzhou named Wu who improved the pattern weaving method of the jacquard loom. In the past, changing a pattern required re-drilling holes and re-weaving, but his method allowed the patterns to be modularized, increasing the efficiency of changing patterns five times."

Wen Jie stopped chewing and looked at Han Fei, wondering what he wanted to say.

"That should be very popular, right?"

"Quite the opposite," Han Fei smiled. "The officials of the Textile Bureau at the time rejected his request for a reward, on the grounds that the ingenious and frivolous technology would disrupt ancestral rules. More importantly, this improvement was almost entirely absent from official documents, only mentioned briefly in a few private notebooks."

Wen Jie, biting his chopsticks, asked, "And then?"

"Fifty years later, almost all high-end silk workshops in Suzhou were using the improved technology, but no one remembered the weaver's name. His value was not recognized by the mainstream system of his time, yet he undeniably changed the underlying code of the industry's production. Would you say his improvement was a success?"

Wen Jie was silent for a moment before speaking, "Are you trying to comfort me, suggesting that perhaps my system will be recognized in fifty years?"

Han Fei laughed heartily: "No, I'm just telling you that if you truly believe in the value of that system, you shouldn't place your hopes on it within the current evaluation system. Instead, you should find fertile ground where it truly needs it, even if that land is currently barren."

Wen Jie paused for a moment, suddenly feeling that the writer who drove a Land Rover and wore an expensive watch exuded something that could make people let down their guard and feel a sense of intimacy and trust, reminding Wen Jie of his sister.

When he was little, whenever he took apart a radio, fiddled with his collection of circuit parts, or drew circuit diagrams on the back of his notebook, he would always be scolded by his parents. Only his older sister would ask him, "What are you trying to make this time? Will the radio work?"

"Anyway, I've already resigned," Wen Jie said after a while.

Han Fei smiled slightly, put down his chopsticks, stood up, and put his hand on his shoulder: "I happen to have a project here that requires building a website. If you can't find a job for the time being, would you like to give it a try?"

"You?" Wen Jie said, his eyes wide. "Aren't you a writer? What kind of network do writers need to build?"

"Yes, I am a writer, and I am also the president of a publishing house."