Chapter 29: The Embarrassed Sisters

Lu Furen had always treated Wang Wenyu with courtesy, but Wang Wenyu understood that his attitude was not born of the affection of a senior for a junior, nor the concern of a superior for a subordinate. It stemmed solely from his regard for Uncle Liang’s status.

She felt no warmth toward this sort of person who excelled at currying favor and finding shortcuts. Yet, since she had to remain here for a time and wished to intern at this company, she returned to Lu Furen a measure of respect she felt he did not truly deserve.

In order to quickly bring the attendant at his side under control, Chen Anlong adopted a cold approach to wear down Jiang Fan’s spirit.

That very evening, when Chen Anlong went out for dinner and drinks, he brought Jiang Fan along but did not allow him to join at the hotel or social venues. Instead, he instructed him to wait in the car.

Jiang Fan realized Chen Anlong was deliberately leaving him out to dry. He had already decided not to stay long at Dafu, so he did not take the matter to heart, nor did he try to ingratiate himself.

On Jiang Fan’s second day at Dafu, just before the end of the workday, the factory broadcast an announcement: with the New Year approaching, the factory would close for the holiday soon, but overtime was required to complete orders. Starting that day, the evening shift would begin at 6:30 instead of 7, and the end of the workday would be extended by an hour.

Dafu frequently required overtime until midnight, with only Sundays off.

The saying "the day’s plan is made in the morning" was put into practice in these Taiwanese-owned factories. To ensure employees who hadn’t had a proper rest could muster enough energy for work, Dafu’s workers had to rise by seven each morning, eat, do calisthenics, and then, in a routine meant to instill company spirit, sing the Taiwanese song "Only If You Fight Will You Win."

After the afternoon shift, there was only an hour for dinner and rest—a half hour less than before. The pace was more rushed than a battle, and with the workday extended by another hour, even going straight to bed without washing up left them with barely six hours of sleep.

Such an exhausting regimen could be endured for a few days, but with half a month left until the New Year break, Jiang Fan, still unfamiliar with the factory’s routines, could tell from the workers’ collective sighs and murmurs after the broadcast that they were deeply dissatisfied.

That night, Chen Anlong went out again to socialize, this time leaving Jiang Fan behind and instructing him not to leave the factory premises, promising to call if needed.

During the day, if Chen Anlong could not reach him on the internal line, a broadcast could summon him. But after hours, the broadcaster had gone home, so the only way to receive a call was to wait by the dormitory phone.

Watching Chen Anlong depart with a driver, Jiang Fan was tempted to run after him and ask: “You tell me to wait here at the factory, but don’t say until when. If you don’t return all night, am I supposed to just wait in the dormitory, unable to go anywhere?”

After some thought, he refrained from acting on his impulse.

Unable to go anywhere, bored out of his mind, Jiang Fan lay in bed and once again dreamed of Wang Wenyu.

This time, there were no illicit scenes. Instead, Wang Wenyu chased after him, berating him as a scoundrel who had sullied her innocence.

The commotion of workers returning from overtime awoke Jiang Fan. He got up, went to the communal restroom to wash his face, and decided to step outside the factory gates to buy a late-night snack before hurrying back to the dormitory.

The area around Baisha Second Village was filled with factories for miles. With so many factories, vendors gathered as well. Exiting Dafu’s gates and following the factory wall for over five hundred meters, one would reach a corner where a night market had naturally formed.

It was already past one in the morning, and few people were out.

As Jiang Fan neared the corner, he heard the sound of sobbing.

Following the cries, he found, about ten meters from the night market, two girls clinging to each other in tears.

Winter in Dongguan was not as cold as the north, but it was still the depths of winter. One girl wore Dafu’s factory uniform; the other, patched short sleeves. The one in short sleeves shook as she cried, her trembling a sign not just of grief but of cold.

Moved by pity, Jiang Fan asked, “Did something happen? Do you need help?”

The girl in the factory uniform looked up, surprised and choking back tears. “Deputy Manager Jiang, is that you?”

“You know me?”

“Lots of folks in the factory know. The boss just hired another lack—” She swallowed the word “ey” and, after a moment’s hesitation, failed to find a way to smooth over her words.

Noticing her embarrassment, Jiang Fan admitted with a self-deprecating smile, “You were going to say the boss’s new lackey, weren’t you? Everyone says it; if you don’t mind, why should you be afraid? Don’t worry, this lackey won’t take revenge over a nickname.”

On his first day at Dafu, Jiang Fan hadn’t shown the canteen staff much courtesy. They gossiped behind his back that the boss’s new lackey was no good, always throwing his weight around.

Good news travels slowly; bad news travels far, especially in a factory where life is monotonous and work repetitive. Zhu Bing, the notorious former lackey, had already left a bad impression among many workers, and with his fall from favor, that reputation had shifted to Jiang Fan.

Although most workers didn’t recognize his face after just two days, almost everyone knew his name and position. He’d already picked up on these rumors.

Jiang Fan’s gentle self-mockery put the girl at ease. She explained, “My little sister has been in Dongguan for ten days and still hasn’t found a job. She’s been sleeping outside every night. I usually bring her meals, but now that our mealtime’s been cut short, I can’t sneak food out for her. Tonight, the factory sent late-night snacks directly to the workshop, so my sister only had one meal all day. And now she’s also...” She trailed off.

Seeing the pain on the girl’s face as she worried for her sister, Jiang Fan couldn’t help but look at them more closely.

Her face was so young—she couldn’t be more than sixteen or seventeen—and her sister looked even younger, not yet fifteen.

The factory required workers to be at least eighteen; underage workers relied on borrowed IDs from relatives or friends.

Without understanding the situation, Jiang Fan pressed, “What’s wrong with your sister?”

“It’s nothing.” Realizing Jiang Fan was a young man, the girl chose not to elaborate.

“Couldn’t you leave her some money so she could get by when you can’t bring her food?”

“Whenever I get paid, I send it all home. I haven’t even been paid last month’s wages. I’ve been out of money for a while.”

Hearing that Dafu was behind on wages, Jiang Fan’s opinion of Chen Anlong sank even lower.

Just yesterday, trailing Chen Anlong, he’d overheard boasts over the phone about how Dafu’s three factories had each filled orders for over a hundred thousand pairs of shoes last month, and plans to open a third factory were underway. Clearly, the company was not short of money.

“This bastard—he’s got money, yet he withholds the workers’ hard-earned pay. What a piece of work,” Jiang Fan couldn’t help but curse under his breath.