The new vice president slapped me in public.
The reason is that the review report only contains ten words: "Today's work: completed normally, nothing special."
I didn't cry or make a fuss, I just took a photo and turned around to leave.
Three days later, he was urgently recalled to the headquarters by his father. There he met me again.
I am a shareholder of the company and hold a veto power. I am an old friend of his father's. The company's success today depends on my design patent ten years ago.
The next day, I was parachuted in and became COO - his immediate boss.
His first sentence after taking office: "Vice President Lu, hand in two thousand words of work reflection every day, handwritten."
He thought I would retaliate, humiliate, and trample him into the mud. But I didn't. I threw him into the most difficult position, forced him to get to know every supplier, stayed up with him every late night, and said "it's okay" when he was about to give up.
I taught him to grow up in the most ruthless way, but I didn't know that I was raising a wolf—a wolf that only had eyes for me and was willing to bow its head.
He stood in front of my mother's tombstone, held my hand and said: "You are seven years older than me, I know. You have been hurt by others and it is difficult to trust others, I know. I don't want you to hang around me, I just want you to be next to me."
By the time he reacted, all he could think about was me.
"Silent," he asked me with red eyes, "you have taught me so much, have you ever taught me how to chase you?"
