The elevator rose steadily, and two faces were reflected in the metal car body.
Zhang Jingzhe loosened his tie, and his eyes behind the lenses were like scalpels, accurately cutting through every inch of the uneasiness of the young man in front of him. Intern Wang Shuai lowered his eyes, holding a folder in his hand, his knuckles turning white. There's cheap cologne and muffled breathing in the air.
"Xiao Wang," Zhang Jingzhe said, his voice low, but like an ice pick cutting into the silence, "I read yesterday's report. It's not 'not good enough', it's simply failed." He paused, enjoying the slight trembling of the other person's shoulders, "What do you think the workplace is? School? Wrong. We only look at the results here, no one cares how many nights you stayed up and how many drops of useless sweat you shed."
