The office building towered into the clouds, swallowing people at nine in the morning, wringing out all their energy and vitality, then gradually spitting them back out after five.
Countless breakfast smells mingled in the elevator, a jumble that stripped away every trace of their original appeal.
"It's already the weekend. Do you think the boss will pay us?"
"Who knows... If he doesn't pay today, I'm filing for arbitration."
"Won't that be a hassle? Still, it's three months' pay. We've got to get it back!"
"Exactly!"
As they spoke, the elevator stopped on the ninth floor. Two women without a trace of makeup turned the corner and stepped through the doors of Dingsheng Textile Co., Ltd.
The place had always been busy: salespeople came to hang samples and select fabrics for development, order coordinators and team leaders argued endlessly over delivery dates, and the roars of aggravating clients on the phone carried far.
It was chaos either way, but once it had meant vitality. Now it left people struggling to breathe.
The people crowding the office had all come to collect debts.
Seeing the two women enter, Ding Ding let out a weary breath.
"I've transferred some money into the company account. Pay the wages first."
The two women's eyes lit up. They swallowed their last bites of breakfast, switched on their computers, and sat down.
Ding Ding had been living at the office lately. Debt collectors came in wave after wave: besides the workers, there were small suppliers unwilling to go to court, as well as owners of foreign trade companies that had previously hired them for contract processing.
Although the dye factory's insurance payout had covered more than half the losses, it was still a drop in the bucket.
"If you pay their wages, what about us?"
"Exactly! You don't owe me that much. Why not pay me first..."
"Mine's the smallest debt, just a few tens of thousands. Have a little mercy, Boss Ding!"
Ding Ding no longer had the energy to lose his temper. He had barely had an uninterrupted night's sleep these past few days. Whether his eyes were open or closed, all he saw was money.
When he was driven into a corner, Ding Ding had even gazed at Guan Gong in his office and prayed for the ability to turn stone into gold.
Unfortunately, the gods and Buddhas paid no heed. What had to be faced still had to be faced.
"I've already applied for bankruptcy liquidation."
Ding Ding's voice was unusually calm, as though he were discussing something that had nothing to do with him. "I've done all I can for the employees' wages and social insurance. As for the rest, we'll have to see how much the assets fetch..."
At those words, the crowd fell silent for a few seconds before growing noisy again.
"Isn't that just dodging your debts?"
"You're just walking away, so what happens to our money?"
"That's really not decent of you!"
Reality was stark and cruel. They argued for a long while, though they knew they were only wasting time.
One small business owner picked up a gold-plated ornament from Ding Ding's desk.
"I'm taking this! Against your debt!"
Seeing this, the others followed suit and began dividing up Ding Ding's office. Some even waited beside the two accountants outside and carried off their computers the moment they finished paying the wages.
"It's fine." Ding Ding stopped the two women when they tried to intervene. "Is everything done?"
"It's done."
"How much is left in the account?"
"..."
The two exchanged a look without speaking, and Ding Ding understood. After a long while, he laughed.
"It's fine. Thanks for your hard work. Today counts as overtime. I'll give you..."
At that, Ding Ding took out his wallet. "Two hundred each. Go home early."
Neither woman accepted it. A boss who paid his employees before filing for bankruptcy was hard to find, and deserved a little kindness.
"No need, Mr. Ding," the slightly older woman said. "These difficulties are only temporary. Things will get better."
"...Let's hope you're right."
Making a comeback was easier said than done.
It had taken Ding Ding ten years to get where he was. Who knew what would happen in the next ten?
The office, noisy for days, finally fell quiet. Ding Ding closed the door, then slumped helplessly down against the wall.
He had no idea how much time passed before someone woke him. His first thought was to wonder why he hadn't simply slept forever.
"Are you all right, Boss Ding?"
His vision was blurred, and the cold tiles had chilled half his body through. Ding Ding shook his head before he could make out the speaker's face.
"Ms. Chen."
The woman he called Ms. Chen was the office's landlady.
"Why did you pass out here? Surely you weren't just asleep?"
Ding Ding pushed himself to his feet. "I'm fine. There's been a lot going on lately. What brings you here, Ms. Chen?"
"Well..." Ms. Chen chuckled. "The lease expires in half a month. I came to ask whether you'll be renewing."
"..."
The air suddenly seemed to gain force, pressing in on Ding Ding from every direction.
His mind seemed unable to turn at all. Ding Ding was silent for a long time before he heard an unfamiliar voice speak.
"I won't."
Ms. Chen's face suddenly blurred into a mosaic, though her voice remained clear.
"That's fine, but look at the state you've left my place in. I won't be returning your deposit!"
Only then did Ding Ding realize that he had been the one who said he wouldn't renew.
"All right."
"..."
The night was always quiet. Beyond the window, the few office cubicles still lit held stubborn figures moving forward with hope.
The lights were on on the ninth floor too, but there was no longer any hope to speak of.
Ding Ding slept in the break room one last time. After waking, he shouldered his large bag and left without hesitation.
The elevator mirror reflected Ding Ding's haggard face: heavy bags under his eyes, unkempt stubble, and clothes he had worn for days. He looked like a crumpled ball of paper, a complete mess.
Ding Ding fixed his hair in the mirror with distaste, muttering to himself.
"Seriously... So ugly even my own mother wouldn't recognize me."
His mother wasn't there, so whether she would recognize him remained unknown. But someone stopped Ding Ding as soon as he stepped out of the elevator, which showed he wasn't quite as unrecognizable as he thought.
"Boss Ding..."
Ding Ding looked toward the voice. It was the woman worker from outside the fire that day.
"Morning!" Ding Ding greeted her. "Looking for someone?"
"It's afternoon..." The woman lowered her head, her voice very soft. "I came to see you."
Ding Ding said nothing, keeping some distance between them, afraid he might smell and offend her.
The woman took a black plastic bag out of her bag, opened it, and pulled out a red plastic bag.
Layer after layer of wrapping came off, revealing a square paper parcel inside.
"Boss Ding, my husband asked me to return this money to you."
Ding Ding stared at the parcel. The newspaper on the outside reported the fire at the dye factory that day. Its printed headline gave a vague account of his failure, accompanied by a photograph of him selling his car that day.
"Boss Ding, my husband said you're a good man." The woman pushed the parcel into Ding Ding's arms.
"If you hadn't carried him to the hospital yourself back then, he might be..."
"We're not the sort of people who have no conscience. We can't take this money!"
Ding Ding remembered. A few years earlier, he had gone to the dye factory to oversee the fabrics. A worker had collapsed from heatstroke, and no amount of calling could wake him.
The hospital wasn't far, so Ding Ding had carried him there, paid his medical fees while he was at it, and told him to get some proper rest.
When he learned that a tumor had later been found, Ding Ding had also made a personal donation.
Someone had remembered that small act of kindness all this time. Ding Ding's eyes grew warm.
When he looked up again, the woman was already far away, leaving Ding Ding standing there with the paper parcel in his arms.
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