4: Chapter 4 The Nuclear Button of the Working Class

Li Li pushed the car door open; the taxi pulled away less than three seconds after stopping at the foot of the building.

The meter jumped to forty-seven; he paid fifty, not waiting for the change.

Into the lobby, swipe the card, elevator, 14th floor.

The young lady at the front desk lifted her head as he passed, then shrank back, her shoulders dropping half an inch.

The meaning was clear—Manager Qian had been yelling all morning, handle it yourself.

At the end of the hallway, Manager Qian's workstation was empty, with three unextinguished cigarette butts in the ashtray, the filter of the top one bitten flat.

A few people sat sparsely in the office area; when their eyes met Li Li's, they snapped away in unison.

Someone was about to get hammered, so everyone was shrinking their necks in advance.

Li Li didn't say a word.

He walked to his workstation, sat down, and turned on his computer.

He wasn't here to work.

Company internal system, attendance module, personal punch-in records.

Three years. Every day's clock-in time, clock-out time, overtime hours—all in black and white, accurate to the minute.

He opened Excel and created a new sheet.

His fingers fell on the keyboard, clattering away, faster than when drawing construction diagrams.

A colleague at the next desk leaned over, lowering his voice: "Brother Li, what are you doing?"

"Settling accounts."

In his past life, he had worked part-time in finance at a translation company; he knew Excel better than his own life.

Data entered, formulas dragged down, the table brushed to the bottom—

A number popped up in the total column.

**240,000.**

Overtime pay 152,000. Year-end bonus 54,000. Project bonus 34,000.

240,000.

Three years the original owner had traded his life for.

Li Li leaned back into his chair, staring at that number for two seconds.

Not a penny less.

Behind him, the sound of leather shoe soles grinding against the tiles, wrapped in a thick smell of smoke, pressed over from the end of the hallway.

"Li Li!"

Manager Qian's voice exploded in the office area; several colleagues' shoulders shrank by a notch in unison.

"When the hell did you arrive?! Who told you to sit down? Where's the proposal for the client? Who organized the morning meeting materials? Do you know that I—"

He walked to the workstation.

He looked down and saw the screen.

His words stuck abruptly.

"What are you doing? What is this table?"

Li Li turned his chair.

Manager Qian, short and stout, Mediterranean hairline, his belly straining the bottom button of his shirt until it was teetering on the edge, his nose tip oily, the smell of smoke rushing out from his collar.

"Manager Qian."

His tone was as flat as reading a weather forecast.

"July 2022, the price difference between the bid price and the actual procurement cost for the Jinhua Municipal Project, 320,000, went through your and Vice President Liu's private accounts."

The sound of keyboards in the office area stopped completely.

The air conditioning vent hummed; there was no other sound on the entire floor.

Manager Qian's face went from liver-red to lime-white within three seconds.

"You—what the hell are you talking about?!"

"OA system, 2022 third-quarter archive folder, the original budget file wasn't deleted cleanly."

Li Li clicked the mouse, and the screen cut to a screenshot.

"Does Manager Qian want to take a closer look?"

Manager Qian's mouth opened, closed, then opened again. His Adam's apple rolled up and down twice, but not a single word came out.

He took a step back.

His heel hit the leg of a colleague's chair, making a "clack" sound.

"You—what do you want?"

"Resign."

Li Li stood up, picked up the printed Excel sheet, and walked past Manager Qian.

He didn't touch him.

He didn't look at him either.

There were no footsteps following behind him.

HR office, at the other end of the hallway.

Li Li pushed the door open and went in.

The HR manager was holding a thermos cup, drinking goji berry water, the lid not yet screwed on—Manager Qian had already squeezed in from the back door with Vice President Liu.

The speed was faster than when he ran to the client.

Vice President Liu, in his early forties, gold-rimmed glasses, spoke with a beat of delay.

"Little Li, Old Qian says you want to resign?"

"Yes. Resignation letter."

The paper was slapped on the desktop.

"And this."

The Excel printout was spread out, the number 240,000 in the bottom row of the A4 paper, bolded, 14-point font.

"Overtime pay, year-end bonus, project bonus, a total of 240,000. Pay it off before I leave."

Vice President Liu picked up the paper and scanned it, the eyeballs behind the gold-rimmed glasses turning in a circle.

He put it down.

"Little Li, is there a problem with this calculation method? The company has never promised to pay overtime according to legal standards."

He paused, his voice slowing down by another half-beat, squeezing the words out one by one.

"And there is a non-compete clause in your contract. If you leave now, you cannot go to any company in the same industry for the next two years."

He pushed up his glasses.

"If you leave on bad terms, we can pursue breach of contract liability. Training fees, project confidentiality money—"

"How much to compensate?"

"At least 150,000."

Manager Qian found his voice nearby and stabbed in: "Calculate it yourself; you'll end up owing money."

The HR manager moved the thermos to the corner of the table, staring down at the grain of the desk, his breathing becoming light.

The office was quiet for two seconds.

Li Li took his phone out of his pocket.

On the screen, the recording timer was jumping with red numbers.

01:47... 01:48... 01:49...

He placed the phone on the table, screen facing up.

The three people's gazes were fixed on that jumping red dot simultaneously.

"Vice President Liu, three things."

"First."

"The social security and housing provident fund the company paid for me for three years were all based on the minimum base. Not based on actual wages. Calculate the difference and the late fees; have finance run these numbers first."

Vice President Liu's fingers stopped on the frame of his glasses.

"Second."

"The premise for the non-compete clause to take effect is that the company pays monthly compensation during the non-compete period. My monthly salary is 17,000, the compensation standard is 30%, which is 5,100 per month. For twenty-four consecutive months."

Li Li tilted his head.

"Whether you can afford to pay or not, you weigh it."

Manager Qian's mouth opened.

He didn't dare to make a sound.

"Third."

Li Li picked up his phone; the recording was still running.

"I have a cloud backup of this recording. If it's not settled within seven working days, I will go to labor arbitration."

He glanced at Manager Qian.

That look had no emotion—like inspecting a non-conforming load-bearing wall during an engineering acceptance, cold, with measurements.

"Before I go, I will incidentally ask the arbitration tribunal—is setting up a private slush fund in a company enough to constitute embezzlement?"

The buzzing sound of the air conditioning vent suddenly became very loud.

Manager Qian's face turned from white to purple, a thin layer of sweat glistening under the fluorescent tube; that color didn't look very healthy.

Vice President Liu took off his glasses.

He wiped them twice with a cloth.

He put them back on.

"...HR. Follow the normal resignation process."

The HR manager almost knocked over the thermos, pulled open the drawer to flip for the form, his hand speed three times faster than usual.

Li Li put away his phone and nodded at the HR manager.

He turned around.

He pushed the door and went out.

The moment the door closed, he caught a glimpse of Manager Qian's right hand—five fingers clutching the seam of his trousers, the knuckles turning blue.

In the hallway, the sound of his footsteps was steady and clean.

Behind him, the door to Vice President Liu's office closed again.

Through a layer of soundproofing board, the sound of Manager Qian being scolded still leaked out—

"How the hell did you recruit this person! You didn't even manage his three years of overtime records?! Didn't you say the budget matter was handled cleanly—"

The voice grew sharper, hoarse and ear-piercing; it was uncomfortable just listening through the door panel.

The elevator arrived.

Door opened, stepped in, pressed 1.

The inside of his wrist felt slightly hot.

A line of small blue characters appeared in the lines of his skin.

[Detected that the host has completed the [Past Life Legacy · Workplace Settlement] side quest.]

[Reward: Top-quality Shredded Beef with Chili × 2.]

[System Evaluation: Employee strikes back, the layout has expanded. But the reward budget is limited; please understand, Host.]

The elevator arrived on the first floor.

Door opened.

Sunlight slanted in from the lobby, stretching his shadow long.

Li Li walked out of the revolving door, stood on the steps, and tore open a pack of shredded beef with chili.

He took a bite.

"...It really is top-quality."

His phone vibrated twice.

Chewing the beef, he swiped open the screen with his thumb.

The first item—

TikTok push, red corner badge, [Breaking].

An aerial shot. On the skyline of a city in the Middle East, three black smoke columns were twisted together, with orange fire burning underneath.

Headline: **"Explosions reported continuously in a certain region of the Middle East, airlines from multiple countries have temporarily adjusted routes, and multiple airports have entered safety control."**

The second item—

WeChat Moments.

Su Wantang.

The image was a screenshot of a live stream, with 24,000 people online. The caption was one line:

"Live stream topic preview for tonight—A collection of the mediocre and confident men who have loved me. Old fans know who it is, new fans come to listen to stories~"

Over thirty comments underneath.

"Ahhh, Sister Tangtang is going to open fire again!"

"It's the one who draws, right? Hahahaha, cracked me up."

"How is a man like that even embarrassed to be alive?"

Li Li's chewing action paused.

He swiped the Moments away.

Then swiped it back.

Not to look at the comments.

But to look at the number of people online—24,000.

He memorized this number.

In his pocket, the hard corner of his passport pressed against his thigh.

Tomorrow morning at 7:00, Terminal 3, Dubai.

He looked at the three columns of black smoke still rising on the screen, then looked down at the shredded beef in his hand.

He turned his left wrist half a circle.

The system light screen flickered.

A new line of small text floated up, the color deeper than the previous blue, almost purple.

[Main quest countdown: 23 hours 47 minutes.]

[Friendly reminder: The host's flight has not been canceled yet.]

[Have a pleasant journey.]

The last four words each had a period after them.

Li Li stuffed the last piece of shredded beef into his mouth.

On the phone screen, the three columns of black smoke were still rising.

And the Production Team's guest list wouldn't be released until 3 o'clock.