At the company's investor conference, an intern suggested serving several investors Wangzai milk.
My fiancée indulgently agreed, and the other shareholders followed suit.
In my previous life, I had firmly objected. This was the company's most important round of financing. If it failed, the company would run out of cash, and every shareholder would be saddled with enormous debts.
My fiancée accused me: “You're so petty. Are you just jealous that he's better-looking than you?”
The other shareholders all said impatiently, “Wangzai milk is fine. Besides, the investors are sure to care about our company's strength.”
We had worked so hard to build the company. I couldn't bear to see everyone's efforts go to waste.
Before the conference began, I cleared away all the Wangzai milk and snacks, replacing them with the investors' favorites: black tea, white tea, fruit platters, and delicate desserts.
The investors were very pleased. The company secured its financing and went public, and its market value soared.
But the intern ran out crying, got hit by a truck, and was left paralyzed in both legs.
During a livestream, he tearfully accused me of workplace bullying, claiming I had pushed him under the truck out of jealousy and caused his paralysis.
My fiancée's tacit approval only made me the target of public outrage.
Extremists doused me in gasoline and burned me to death. My mother died of a heart attack, and my father was hit by a car and killed in the street.
Given another chance, when I heard the intern suggest serving Wangzai milk, I stayed silent. Wangzai milk was great, especially with Wangzai steamed buns.
Then I called someone and said, “That high-paying offer you made to poach me, with company shares included, is it still on?”
