Urban Sign-In for Young Losers on Their Way to Business Tycoons

Lin Chen felt like a wild dog whose spine had been trampled to pieces. Haicheng in June is as sultry as a steamer, and the late-night air is filled with the residual heat from the asphalt roads and the sour smell of sewers. He was curled up on a bench in the corner of People's Park, his suit jacket crumpled on his body, and his tie had long been torn loose and hung crookedly around his neck. A button on the cuff of his shirt fell off. It was knocked off on the ground when he was pushed out of the company building this afternoon. He remembered that scene. The security guard grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the revolving door like a dead dog. The papers in the folder were scattered on the floor, blown everywhere by the wind. The familiar faces in the office area looked at him through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Some lowered their heads and whispered, some showed gloating expressions, and many more looked away expressionlessly. No one spoke for him. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.