What do you mean by saying that the corpses I sew are all ominous creatures?

"Okay, thank you for reminding me, Uncle Qin."

I nodded, said goodbye to Grandpa Qin, and walked straight toward the office building.

Stepping on the terrazzo floor, I made my way to the director's office at the end of the corridor.

Before I could even knock on the door, I heard Director Wang's loud and reprimanding voice coming from inside.

"Old Zhang, Old Zhang, tell me, how many years have you been working here? Huh?"

You can't even handle such a small thing!

The family members wanted a makeup look that appeared peaceful and natural.

You've applied foundation like you've painted a wall, and blush like a monkey's butt. Do you think your family will be happy with that?

They almost caused a scene in the morgue just now!

Immediately following was Old Zhang's hesitant voice.

"Yes, yes, yes, Director, your criticism is correct."

It was my fault for not controlling the heat properly; my hand was shaking.

I'll go and redo the makeup for the deceased right away, I promise the family will be satisfied. Don't be angry, it's not worth ruining your health..."

Hearing this familiar conversation pattern, I stood outside the door and couldn't help but shake my head slightly.

Then, I raised my hand and knocked lightly twice on the wooden door.

"Knock knock".

"Come in!" came Director Wang's impatient voice from inside.

I pushed open the door and went inside.

In the spacious office, Director Wang was sitting in the large leather boss's chair.

At this moment, he was holding a purple clay teapot in his hand, panting heavily.

Old Zhang, hunched over, stood in front of his desk, fidgeting with the hem of his clothes, a fawning smile plastered on his face.

When Director Wang saw me push the door open and walk in, he was taken aback for a moment.

Then, his chubby face, which had turned red with anger, instantly transformed into a warm smile, much like a Sichuan opera face-changing act.

Even his eyes were squinted into slits.

"Oh! Xiao Chen! You're finally back!"

Director Wang placed the purple clay teapot directly on the table, his obese body springing up from the chair and taking three steps in two to get around the desk.

He grabbed my hand and was incredibly affectionate.

"You've been taking leave for a month or more at a time, it's really worried me!"

How's it going? Have you taken care of everything back home?

Is everyone at home doing well?

Faced with Director Wang's exaggerated enthusiasm, I didn't feel uncomfortable at all, because I was already used to it.

However, this is not a good thing either.

Generally speaking, when Director Wang is so nice to me, it's usually because he needs something from me.

This means I'm going to start doing manual labor.

So, I forced a smile and said, "It's all taken care of, Director Lao."

I came here today specifically to report back from leave; I'll be able to officially start work soon.

"Good thing I'm back from leave! Good thing I'm back from leave!"

Director Wang patted my shoulder, turned to look at Old Zhang who was still standing to the side, and the smile on his face instantly faded.

"Old Zhang, what are you still standing here for?"

"Go and redo that makeup right now!"

Old Zhang felt like he'd been granted a pardon, nodding and bowing repeatedly: "Yes, yes, I'll go right away, I'll go right away."

After saying that, Old Zhang gave me a forced smile, turned around, and quickly walked out of the office.

I chatted with Director Wang for a few more minutes in the office and filled out the leave cancellation form.

However, to my surprise, Director Wang did not rush to assign me any work this time.

After that, I stayed in the office for another five minutes.

I confirmed that aside from making a few grand promises about year-end bonuses and performance evaluations, he didn't seem to have anything important to discuss with me.

Although I had my doubts, I still made an excuse to leave.

As I stepped out of the office, I immediately saw Old Zhang standing at the corner of the corridor, holding a worn-out makeup case, seemingly waiting for me.

"Xiao Chen, you're back."

When he saw me coming over, Old Zhang forced a smile onto his haggard face, making the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes appear even deeper.

"Yeah, I just finished my leave."

I stepped forward and walked alongside him toward the morgue.

The corridor was quiet, with only the echoes of our footsteps.

To be honest, I've always been a little curious about Lao Zhang.

In this funeral home, Lao Zhang and I have been colleagues for quite some time.

From my first day at the company, I have often seen Director Wang criticize him harshly, just like today.

Sometimes their words are quite harsh, even sarcastic.

Strangely, despite Director Wang's criticisms, Old Zhang always wore a fawning smile.

He never uttered a single loud rebuttal, let alone argued with Director Wang.

Even a clay figure retains a touch of earthiness in this society.

Old Zhang's almost humble forbearance is truly unbelievable.

Since we usually get along fairly well, I didn't go through too much trouble.

So as I walked, I turned to look at him and asked, half-jokingly:

"Old Zhang, I've always been wondering, does Director Wang have some kind of leverage over you?"

Upon hearing this, Old Zhang was visibly taken aback.

He stopped and turned to look at me with a somewhat bewildered expression: "Huh? Clue?"

Xiao Chen, what makes you say that?

I looked him in the eyes and said casually:

"Ever since I started working at the museum, the director has been criticizing you in public like this countless times."

If it were anyone else, even a clay Buddha would get angry.

But how come I've never seen you argue with him? You always just smile and take it all in.

Upon hearing my question, the bewilderment on Old Zhang's face gradually faded, replaced by a complex expression.

He scratched his already graying hair, looked down at the worn-out makeup case in his hand, and gave a bitter smile.

"How could I dare to argue with him..."

Old Zhang's voice was somewhat deep, carrying a hint of relief after experiencing many hardships.

"Xiao Chen, you're young and don't know about my past."

He paused, seemingly recalling a less-than-pleasant past.

"Back then, probably more than ten years ago, my business failed and I was heavily in debt."

At that time, I was being chased by debt collectors, and I was really at my wit's end, about to starve to death on the streets.

My wife couldn't stand this kind of life either, and she divorced me, taking the children with her.

Old Zhang took a deep breath, raised his head, and looked at the window at the end of the corridor that was letting in a faint light.

"Just when I was looking for a place to end it all, the director took the initiative to contact me."

Not only did he not mind my many bad habits, but he also took pity on me and went to great lengths to find me this temporary job at the museum.

Later, he swallowed his pride and begged the retired old craftsman in the workshop to teach me the skill of applying makeup to the dead.

That's how I got food to eat and was able to survive in this city.

At this point, Old Zhang turned his head.

He looked at me with a serious expression.

"Although the director sometimes speaks harshly and acts like a big official, he's not a bad person at heart."

To me, he is my savior and my second parents.

His criticism stemmed from disappointment and frustration.

How could I possibly argue with him?