The resentment and fury, so dense they had nearly taken physical form, came rolling in, making Ji Jue break out in a cold sweat.
His expression twitched.
Indeed, if Brother Kunpeng's experience were translated into human terms, it could only be called tear-jerking—the protagonist of some miserable angst novel.
Imagine it: like some roll dog who had worked himself to the bone from childhood through adulthood, outworked classmate after classmate to death, went straight through master's and doctoral programs in a blazing-hot field, and finally became an industry heavyweight. Just as he was preparing to emerge and dominate the world, he got hired by a world-famous corporation for a fat salary. After signing his life away, he was still thinking about showing off his skills—only to be assigned to the mailroom, where he collected packages and read newspapers for a fixed paycheck every day.
And so, day after day after day.
He watched former colleagues who had once been worse off than him rise to prominence and soar to success, while he sat in the mailroom reading newspapers, with a cup of tea and a cigarette, his ambitions left unfulfilled.
Then, after a year and a half, one day, the company boss suddenly came rushing over in a panic and said, "Brother, the company's about to go under. Save us!"
By the time you folded up the newspaper and gave a wicked smile, what you said would definitely have been harsher than Brother Kunpeng's words.
Having figured that out, Ji Jue suddenly felt like he was going bald.
He abruptly felt that the meal Eldest Brother had treated him to might not actually make it into his mouth.
...How about, while there was still time, they discussed it? "For tonight's race, could you switch cars and ride my three-wheeler instead?"