The November sea wind knifed into his collar.
Lin Yuan crouched beside the curb, clutching a plastic container with both hands. Inside was a discounted boxed meal he’d just bought at a convenience store.
“Whew…”
His warm breath vanished in an instant, swept away by the wind.
Lin Yuan was twenty-four. Two years ago, he’d graduated from an ordinary second-tier university. On graduation day, wearing a rented cap and gown, he’d thrown an arm around his roommate’s shoulder and grinned carelessly at the camera, convinced the world was his for the taking.
Reality had slapped him hard.
He’d sent out more than two hundred resumes. Either he heard nothing back, or interviewers raised their eyebrows and asked, “This position is only open to graduates of 985 and 211 universities. What advantage do you think you have?”
An advantage?
