Unemployed

Xiang Kun stood in the subway, swaying slightly with the train as he stared blankly at his reflection in the window.

The reflection showed a middle-aged man in glasses and sloppy clothes. His back was slightly hunched, and his hair was clearly unkempt and messy. A large patch of forehead showed through, and his thinning hair seemed well on its way to a bald spot. If he had asked the strangers around him on the train, most of them would probably have guessed he was in his forties.

But the truth was, he had only just turned thirty a few days ago.

Had he really turned into this sorry sight?

No wonder his boss had half-jokingly introduced him to a single woman the administrative department had just hired, someone his age, and she'd looked at him with such discomfort and distaste.

For the past few years, he had poured nearly all his energy into work. He started at nine every morning, then rushed to catch the last subway home sometime after ten at night. He routinely worked overtime on weekends, sometimes even on Sundays. And even when he wasn't at the office, he was often thinking about how to optimize the code, fix bugs, and improve the product.

After graduating, Xiang Kun had joined this company when it was just getting off the ground. From the beginning, he'd been determined to prove himself, establish a foothold in the city, and build a family and a career.

In seven years, his annual salary had multiplied several times, and he'd become one of the company's core technical staff. He had acquired a substantial amount of stock options and had even bought an apartment—though it was on the outer ring, measured less than seventy square meters, and his parents had helped with part of the down payment. He still had a huge mortgage to pay off.

By all appearances, he had just about managed to get established. But he was still far from meeting his own expectations, so he had never let up. He kept working nonstop, pushing himself to improve the project and help the company go public, so his options could turn into a fortune.

But today, the boss had told them the company was bankrupt. Even after liquidating the money in the company accounts, there wasn't enough to pay everyone's full wages for the month, let alone severance or compensation.

As an internet company, it had no real physical assets. There were only their work computers, the office desks and chairs, and the like—and even quite a few debts remained unpaid.

As for the stock options they held, they were already no different from scraps of paper.

With his experience and technical skills, it shouldn't be difficult to find another job. Even if he couldn't earn as much as before, he should still be able to make a living.

But the seven years he'd spent throwing himself into his work, neglecting food and sleep, putting in far more than the usual 996 schedule—that had all become a joke.

Unlike his coworkers, Xiang Kun hadn't surrounded the boss to haggle over wages and compensation. He knew there was no point anymore. As for those who were directly carrying things out of the office, the building's management wouldn't let them leave with anything now that the company was about to declare bankruptcy. The most they could take was their own work laptops.

The subway doors slid open, and the announcement sounded. Xiang Kun didn't feel like thinking about work or what came next just then, so he got off one stop early and went to a street food stall. He ordered a dozen bottles of beer and a few dishes, intending to drink alone and drown his sorrows.

Xiang Kun didn't actually like drinking. He could even say he hated alcoholic drinks, because he disliked the way alcohol numbed his mind and left him unable to think clearly.

Another reason was that his job was technical, and he wasn't good at—or interested in—socializing and entertaining clients. He was usually too busy to have time to meet up with friends, anyway.

He didn't smoke or drink. His usual way of staying alert was coffee, tea, or Red Bull. He was practically on a first-name basis with caffeine.

Xiang Kun couldn't remember the last time he'd had a drink. Maybe it had been in college, but he was sure he hadn't even finished a can of beer.

So he didn't know how much he could hold.

But after his third beer, Xiang Kun's face was already bright red. His head spun, his stomach churned, and he felt like throwing up.

He felt awful and couldn't bring himself to keep drowning his sorrows. He returned the rest of the beer, paid the bill, and managed to call a Didi to take him home.

The food stall was close to his place. The drive took only five minutes.

Although the apartment he had bought was ready, he hadn't moved in. He was still living in the small room he rented, while renting out his new apartment.

For one thing, the apartment was too far from his company. If he moved there, he'd spend more than twice as long commuting every day. For another, the rent he got from it was more than what he paid for his own room. Besides, he lived alone and spent most of his time working overtime at the office. Paying more for somewhere to live would have been a waste.

Xiang Kun struggled back to his cramped, shabby rental, his head still swimming. He didn't bother washing up or taking off his clothes. He just flopped onto the bed and passed out.

When Xiang Kun woke up, the first thing he saw was sunlight shining through the window. His immediate reaction was, "I'm going to be late for work!"

But when he jolted upright and realized he'd slept the whole night in his clothes and shoes, with his vomit beside the bed, he remembered what had happened the day before—the company was gone.

Xiang Kun rubbed his temples, which still felt numb and sore, and sat down on the bed. He hadn't expected the effects of the alcohol to last through the night. Just three 330-milliliter beers had left him this drunk. Sure enough, he wasn't cut out for drinking.

He picked up the phone he'd tossed onto the bed to check the time, but it had run out of battery and shut down. He found that strange. He clearly remembered it had been more than eighty percent charged when he left work the day before, and he'd barely used it while drinking at the food stall. Had it really drained completely just sitting idle overnight?

It seemed the battery had degraded quite a bit after more than a year of use.

Thinking this, Xiang Kun plugged in his phone. Then, forcing himself to get up, he cleaned up the vomit that had congealed all over the floor, changed the sheets and duvet cover, and went to wash up and shower.

In the shower, Xiang Kun noticed that he'd lost a lot more hair, and his skin had become extremely rough, like the matte casing of a phone. His teeth also seemed a little loose.

After his shower, Xiang Kun stood in front of the bathroom mirror and wiped away the steam. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had dark circles under them. His cheeks seemed a little thinner, too. He looked terribly haggard, as if he'd been up all night for several days.

"Did getting drunk once really do this to me?" Xiang Kun silently decided that no matter what difficulties he faced in the future, he would never try to drown his sorrows again. It hadn't made the sorrow go away; it had only wrecked his body.

After changing, Xiang Kun left the bathroom and picked up his phone, which had charged to forty percent. When he turned it on, he found more than a dozen missed calls. Some were from former coworkers, some looked like advertising calls, one was from his mother, and there were dozens of unread WeChat messages.

His mother's missed call had come thirty-five minutes earlier, so Xiang Kun quickly called her back. "Mom, what's up? Were you looking for me?"

"Oh, it's nothing. Your dad sent you a message on WeChat and you didn't reply, so he thought that was a little strange and asked me to call you."

"I was just in a meeting, so I had my phone on silent and didn't hear it. I've been too busy to check WeChat. I'll take a look in a minute. Tell Dad not to worry."

His mother sounded concerned. "You have to work overtime even on Sundays now? Make sure you take care of yourself. It doesn't matter how much money you earn if you ruin your health."

Sunday?

Xiang Kun froze for a moment. Wasn't today Friday? He clearly remembered that yesterday—the day he left the company—had been Thursday.

After a pause, Xiang Kun returned to the phone's home screen and checked the date. It really was Sunday!

That meant that after getting drunk and coming home, he'd gone straight to sleep for two whole days?