"Yes, exactly! That's right!"
"This is a complete and utter rebirth!"
Yuan Zhao shouted, growing ever more excited. Amid the fervent cheers and encouragement of his subordinates, he shoved the microphone toward him again. "Come on, tell everyone about your goals and plans for the new quarter! How much value are you going to create for the company and the business department? How long are you planning to work overtime this month?!"
"I..."
Huai Shi lowered his head and looked at the microphone thrust before him, hesitating. "I..."
He drifted off again. But for some reason, this time, something seemed to rise from deep within his chest—strange yet familiar—pushing him to speak what was in his heart. "I don't want to work overtime anymore."
He said, "I want to go home."
"..."
Silence. Dead silence.
Yuan Zhao turned around stiffly. Everyone stared at him blankly.
As though they were looking at a lunatic walking naked down the street. No—more like they were looking at an employee who said he didn't want to work overtime.
Either way, it was completely insane.
Far too absurd.
So absurd that everyone wondered whether he was telling a joke.
"I'm not joking. I want to go home, get a good night's sleep, wash my face, shave, and think carefully about who I am."
Huai Shi kept talking, instinctively and stubbornly trying to voice the words that kept surfacing in his heart. "I want to think carefully about what's going on with this world.
"And whether there's something wrong with you people—with you—"
It was like stripping off a down jacket and leather coat in the sweltering heat of summer. In the relief of that liberation, he asked in confusion:
"Do you still think you haven't lived long enough? Or do you think you have too