Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

This posture doesn't look like a court hearing, but more like having a heart-to-heart talk with someone in a coffee shop.

"You've been with the company for four years, and you've received three A's and one S in your performance reviews. Your code quality is the best in the entire department, and the two recent graduates you mentored are already able to independently manage modules. Your team leader was telling me just last month that YiXie's code is exceptionally beautiful, the kind that only comes along once every ten years..."

"Sister Chen," Zhao Yihang suddenly spoke, his voice very soft.

The HR representative stopped.

“Sister Chen,” Zhao Yihang said again, “I know you’ve been good to me… When I first started working here, I was scammed out of three months’ deposit by an agency when I rented an apartment, and you helped me pay it. I remember that.”

The HR representative's hand tightened slightly on the table.

"But I really have to resign."

There was a two-second silence in the courtroom.

“Mr. Zhao,” the legal director stood up again, this time without the folder, “if you really don’t want to be promoted to P7, don’t want to lead a team independently… we can discuss these things. Weibo is an open-minded community, what can’t we discuss? Your job title can remain the same, your employee ID can remain unchanged, and we can make special annotations on your job level in the internal system so that they are not displayed externally. You can just focus on writing your code, and no one will be able to see what P you are.”

Zhao Yihang shuddered: "I'm not suited for management."

“You don’t need to do management,” the legal director immediately added. “Just write code, only code. Exactly the same as your first three years here. The product manager will still provide the requirements documents; you just need to implement them.”

"I'm not in good health."

"The company provides supplemental commercial insurance, and this year we added a high-end medical check-up, with VIP access to a top-tier hospital. If you feel tired, we can adjust your attendance, no clocking in, flexible working hours, you can come in for half a day."

"I……"

"Oh, right, we'll also change your workstation," the HR representative said, pulling a floor plan from a folder. "Didn't you mention before that the workstations by the window are too sunny? The one on the northeast corner of the 37th floor, you know, that's the one Mr. Liu used to have. It has floor-to-ceiling windows facing north, so it's not sunny, and you can see the whole Chaoyang Park. Mr. Liu said he's moving to the west area, so that one is for you."

Zhao Yihang looked at the table in front of him.

“You just bought a property in Beijing last year, and you also bought a new car last year,” the general counsel continued, his tone softening. “Now that you’re leaving, and you don’t want any compensation, you can imagine the financial pressure you’re under… We’re really worried about you.”

"How about we discuss this from a different angle... You can go out and relax, visit other companies, and see how other teams work. The company will issue you a certificate to ensure it won't interfere with your work in any way. At the same time, we'll provide you with additional compensation... well, rest pay, double... triple is also negotiable. You don't need to do anything, just sign a document confirming that your employment relationship still belongs to Weibo."

Zhao Yihang continued to stare at the table in front of him.

"I just need a resignation certificate." After a good ten seconds, he finally spoke.

The general counsel stood there for a long time, so long that the clerk's fingers hovered above the keyboard, unsure whether to type.

“That number,” he said, picking up the claim documents from the table, his voice barely a whisper, “will probably keep going up.”

In the last row of the gallery, someone whispered something, and the person next to them replied in an even softer voice.

The presiding judge struck the gavel.

"The panel of judges will adjourn for fifteen minutes."

During the recess, Zhao Yihang went to the restroom.

He stood in front of the sink to wash his hands. The faucet was sensor-activated, and the water stopped automatically after three seconds. He waved his hand again, and the water flowed for another three seconds.

When he returned to the courtroom, he found a hot drink next to his seat as the plaintiff.

The latte, served in a paper cup, was still hot to the touch.

A sticky note was attached to the cup, with the HR representative's neat handwriting: "Xiao Zhao, you have a sensitive stomach, don't drink instant drinks all the time. Sister Chen."

Zhao Yihang picked up the latte, took a sip, and then took another sip.

He put the cup down, peeled off the sticky note, folded it, and put it in the breast pocket of his plaid shirt.

The panel of judges returned in just twelve minutes.

The presiding judge sat down, picked up his teacup, took a sip, set it down, and then spoke.

"After deliberation, the panel of judges believes that: all the claims made by the defendant, Weibo Technology Co., Ltd., against the plaintiff, Zhao Yihang, are based on corresponding facts and calculation logic. The plaintiff's actions regarding the care of the pothos plants, the misappropriation of snacks, and the frequency of his speeches at meetings have indeed caused direct or indirect economic losses to the defendant."

She paused for a moment.

"Therefore, this court supports the defendant's claim for damages totaling RMB 173.25 million."

Zhao Yihang was dumbfounded.

“However,” the judge removed his glasses, “the plaintiff may also choose not to pay this compensation.”

She put on her glasses.

"The premise is that the plaintiff's employment relationship must continue with the defendant. The plaintiff's position, salary, and benefits will remain unchanged. The plaintiff may not submit another resignation application, at least not until..."

She glanced down at the case file.

"At least until the feature you developed is properly refactored, or the company finds a successor willing to take over."

The audience remained silent for a full three seconds.

Zhao Yihang sat in the plaintiff's seat, staring at the national emblem behind the presiding judge for a long time.

"Then...where's my promotion notice?"

The presiding judge turned a page of the case file.

"The defendant has withdrawn the appeal in court."

"I understand." Zhao Yihang sighed, then breathed a sigh of relief.

In the dock, the HR representative stood with his head down, tidying up the documents in front of him.

She packed up slowly, folded the floor plan neatly, put it in the inner compartment of the folder, and then neatly gathered the thick stack of claims, tapping it on the table to align the edges.

As Zhao Yihang walked out of the courtroom, someone patted him on the shoulder.

He turned around and saw a young lawyer from Weibo's legal department who had been sitting on the far side of the defendant's seat without saying a word the entire time.

The young lawyer handed him an envelope.

“Brother Zhao,” he said, his voice so low that only the two of them could hear, “this is the overtime meal allowance for this month, specially approved by the finance department… The vice president told me to tell you that if you’re not feeling well, write less code and get more rest… Your workstation has been moved to the one by the window; you’ll see it when you come tomorrow.”

Zhao Yihang took the envelope and felt its thickness.

“Also,” the young lawyer glanced at both ends of the corridor and lowered his voice, “the shake function… the company has decided to cancel it. The director said that as long as you come back, you can decide on the restructuring plan, what it will look like, how long it will last… it’s all up to you.”

Zhao Yihang put the envelope in his pocket, pushed open the glass door of the courthouse, and stepped into the sunlight of the capital.

He stood on the steps, squinted at the sky, then took out his phone, opened Weibo, and casually shook it.

The screen flickered and a car advertisement popped up.

In the center of the page is a photo of an SUV in the sunlight, with the tagline: "There is no turning back in life, but you do."

He put his phone back in his pocket and walked towards the subway station.

Behind me, behind the window on the second floor of the courthouse, legal representatives from three different internet companies were exchanging business cards in the corridor. One of them pulled out a document from his briefcase, which was titled "Feasibility Study on Establishing an Employee Turnover Risk Assessment Model." He opened the first page and added another checkmark between "Dispute Functions" and "Risk Positions."

The person next to him leaned over and glanced at it, whispered something, and the other person nodded and added a few words to the "Pre-job Agreement" section: Lifetime Responsibility System.

The court clerk typed the last period on the last line of the court transcript and then archived it.

Case type: Labor dispute.

Case No.: Jinghufa Minchuzi No. 7834.

Result: The plaintiff's claim was dismissed, and the defendant's counterclaim was upheld.

Remarks:

1. The plaintiff's court fees have been refunded. (10 yuan)

2. The defendant has already paid the counterclaim fee. (20 yuan. Fees are charged per case in labor dispute cases.)

145 Global Public Beta

Li Xiao was woken up by his phone vibrating.

One WeChat message after another kept popping up, making the bedside table vibrate.

He squinted and reached for his phone. There were more than a dozen messages in the notification bar, the latest one from his college bunkmate who never posted on social media: "Quick, check the news."

Unlock your phone and open Weibo.

Eight of the top ten trending topics were on the list of "unethical" or "immoral" topics.

The top-ranked entry only has four characters: Global Public Beta.

I can no longer access my WeChat Moments.

Li Xiao waited a full five seconds for it to load. The first message was a push notification forwarded by a colleague, with a long title: "Global Morality Ranking Public Beta Officially Launched: Leaders of Many Countries Enter the Top 100."

Li Xiao sat up from the head of the bed, rubbed his eyes, and opened the app store.

The update package wasn't big, just over 200 MB. He went to brush his teeth while it was downloading, and when he came back, the installation was already complete.

[Global Ranking of the Most Unethical Individuals]

Liang Yan is no longer at the top; to be more precise, that jerk has completely disappeared...

The top twenty are all heads of state: the Prime Minister of India, the Emperor Yang of Sui, the President of the United States, the President of Indonesia, the President of Russia...

They were all familiar faces, and each person's vote count looked almost as long as their phone number!

Li Xiao counted: the top six big brothers all had nine-figure sums.

What Li Xiao cared about most was, of course, Emperor Yang of Da Sui.

Opening the details page reveals a wide variety of reasons for voting:

"Housing prices are too high," "Medical insurance reimbursement rates are too low," "The road we repaired last year is already broken this year," "I'm just not satisfied," "The unfinished building has been abandoned for three years and no one is taking care of it," "Pensions just increased by 80 yuan but vegetable prices have increased by 120 yuan," "You need to check three generations of social security records to get your child into school," "I queued for four hours at the hospital but the doctor said he was off work"... and so on and so forth!

The languages ​​are also incredibly diverse, including English, Japanese, Korean, and Arabic:

He doesn't respect personal freedom.

"Terrible human rights record"

"Militarization of the South China Sea threatens freedom of navigation"

"TikTok is more dangerous than a spy."

"He caused my factory orders to drop by 30%. Maybe it wasn't his fault, but I'm still voting."

"He's his true face, his true face, his true face, his true face, his true face, his true face, and his true face." (He always looks serious, and I simply don't like people who are too serious)

“?? ??? ????? ??? ???? ???????” (No particular reason, just want to cast a vote)

……

Just five minutes later, Li Xiao started to feel dizzy and lightheaded. He quickly exited the app and went to the organization's overall leaderboard.

It's exactly the same!

The top twenty or so remain the highest organizational form of current Earth civilization!

The US government, as expected, sits at the top of the list.

Reasons for voting: "Not voting for you would be a disservice to my electricity bill!" "That's real prestige!" "My soy milk maker's instruction manual has English warning labels, aren't you being a bit too nosy?" "Invasion of Iraq." "Prison abuse at Abu Ghraib prison." "A drone killed my uncle, and there was only half a body at his funeral." "PRISM program, my emails are not your intelligence resources"...

The Great Tang Dynasty ranked second, the Indian government third, and the Russian Federation fourth.

The fifth place is a bit special: Pakistan's ranking far exceeds its population weight. When you click in, the reasons for voting are almost entirely in Hindi, with a few English interspersed: "I voted for my Indian brothers" and "We can't let India be the only one on the list."

I flipped through several pages before finally finding a poll from Pakistan that read: "I'm in Lahore, and we experienced 400 hours of power outages this summer. I don't think Pakistan should be ranked fifth, but since it is, I cast my vote anyway. At least let those in power see what we're complaining about."

My phone vibrated again.

This time it's a push notification from a news app.

[The New York Times: Behind every name, someone says "I'm disappointed"]

The ranking of the list of unethical individuals does not tell us any new facts.

The problems in the United States—healthcare inequality, political polarization, racial tensions—are not amplified or diminished by a single ranking.

But this ranking tells us something else: Americans are disappointed, and this disappointment is being seen by the whole world.

It's a complex feeling.

We can certainly argue that this list lacks a rigorous methodology, and its voting mechanism cannot eliminate the interference of emotions, herd mentality, and transnational political hatred. But the same arguments could be made by the governments of every country on the list. When all the arguments arise simultaneously, they cancel each other out, leaving only one simple fact: many people are dissatisfied.

The question is never "whether anyone is dissatisfied".

Human civilization has progressed to the point where almost every indicator—from life expectancy to literacy rate, from material abundance to protection of individual rights—is far better than it was two hundred years ago. But the structure of human nature remains unchanged—we are never completely satisfied with the status quo, our eyes always see the shortcomings before the achievements, and our desire for "better" is always stronger than our satisfaction with "good enough."

This is the engine of human progress, and also humanity's eternal dilemma.

Driven by this engine, every country is destined to be on the list.

The US president is on the list because half of Americans dislike him, while the other half think he hasn't done enough.