I hadn't even had time to settle in after returning to my hometown when my second uncle, whom I hadn't seen in three years, slapped my cousin's resume down in front of me.
Blowing smoke rings, he said forcefully, “I hear you're an official at the county bureau. Get your younger cousin a government job.”
I calmly refused. “Those positions require an exam. I don't have the authority.”
My second uncle's face darkened at once. Pointing at my nose, he cursed, “You ungrateful brat! We wasted our money sending you to school!”
My mother wiped away her tears beside him, urging me not to be so heartless.
My second aunt sneered. “Fine. You've got guts. Just you wait.”
The next day, as soon as I returned to my office at the bureau, the secretary handed me a real-name report.
It listed more than ten of my supposed “offenses,” and it was signed by my second uncle.
He even bragged in the letter that he would make sure I never recovered for the rest of my life.
Looking at the red fingerprint on the envelope, I called the disciplinary inspection team.
“Perfect. I'll handle this report personally.”
