Chapter Seventy-One: You Stepped on My Foot

Today, Silk Blossom Group let everyone off work an hour early, for in just one hour, the final deadline of this year’s sales competition would arrive.

All the employees gathered around the scoreboard at the entrance hall, voicing their opinions and judgments about this year’s contest.

Some departments rejoiced, while others were crestfallen.

The sales department, reigning champions every year, looked set to defend their title once more; their total sales points exceeded the combined sum of all other departments. Each member stood tall, wearing the triumphant smile of a victor, awaiting the honor of the final award ceremony.

The administration and finance departments, coming in second and third respectively, were all smiles as well, clearly satisfied with their achievements.

The logistics staff had the look of survivors—though their performance was abysmal, being second to last meant their year-end bonuses would not suffer too greatly.

Every department, whether proud, content, or relieved, shared one obvious expression: schadenfreude.

The security department’s points stood at zero, ranking dead last…

“Hey, look at that one… yes, him, he’s about to cry, ha ha…”

“That’s what they get for overestimating themselves. I’ve been here for years, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen the security department take part in the sales competition…”

Murmurs and snickers rippled through the crowd, full of mockery and derision. No one felt any sympathy for a group of security guards who had so overreached.

The members of the security department hung their heads, faces flushed deep red. Even someone like Qin Feng, whose skin was usually thick as iron, now found it hard to lift his head. Zero points, last place—it was mortifying. A department of more than a dozen people, and not one bra sold in all this time—utter disgrace…

“Out of the way, move!” A member of the sales department, just back from upstairs, shoved his way into the crowd. Though he already knew the results, he couldn’t resist seeing the official tally himself.

“Watch it, you stepped on my foot!” Qin Feng shouted. The man had trod on him in the jostle.

It was a minor thing, and Qin Feng spoke more out of habit than real anger. Normally, if the man had just apologized, that would have been the end of it. But the sales guy seemed intoxicated by victory; not only did he fail to apologize, he acted as if nothing had happened. “Ha ha, our sales department is first again! What a score, what a result, ha ha!” Then, turning to the crowd, he shouted, “Everyone, look! Sales is number one again! Our year-end bonus is going to be huge, ha ha…”

Qin Feng, already simmering with frustration, felt a sudden surge of rage as the man pranced about after stepping on his foot without a care.

“Hey!” Qin Feng bellowed, striding forward. “You stepped on my foot!”

The man glanced at him dismissively. “So what if I did? Don’t make a fuss—so I stepped on you. When I get my bonus, I’ll buy you a new pair of shoes!” He turned back to the crowd, continuing his victory speech, all animation and self-satisfaction.

Qin Feng felt flames shooting from his head. If they weren’t coworkers, he’d have whipped off his belt and taught the man a lesson right then.

“Don’t you think you should apologize?” Qin Feng gritted out, barely containing his fury.

The man straightened his tie and smoothed his slicked-back hair, giving Qin Feng a sly, mocking smile. “Apologize?” He laughed loudly, turning to the crowd. “Did I hear right? He actually wants me to apologize?”

“Damn it…” Qin Feng could no longer hold back and reached for his belt, but Old Stick, standing beside him, seized his arm in a firm grip and gave him a warning look. Qin Feng relaxed his fingers, glaring sidelong at the sales rep.

The sales rep didn’t notice Qin Feng’s reaction, still wearing that air of disdain. “We’re first place, and you’re last. Why would the winner ever apologize to the loser? Besides, like I said, it’s just a stepped foot—after the bonus, I’ll buy you a new pair of shoes. If you think that’s not enough, I’ll buy two pairs. Our department’s bonuses are bigger, after all!”

“What did you just say!” The other security guards, already in a foul mood, could no longer endure his provocation. They were about to erupt.

“I said, you’re losers!” The sales rep didn’t care in the least. In his eyes, he was a member of the illustrious sales department, and these others were just a bunch of country bumpkins who could do nothing but guard doors.

“Say that again, I dare you!”

“I said—you—are—losers!” He emphasized each word, his face a mask of contempt.

“You—”

“What about it?” The sales rep, probably never having been punched in his life, still didn’t know when to stop, ignoring the warning glances of his colleagues. Wearing a sneer, he said, “What, you want to fight? You’d better remember your place. You’re just lowly security guards—glorified doormen. Me? I’m from the sales department. If you lay a hand on me, you couldn’t pay for it if you sold your whole backwards lot!”

“That’s it, brothers—let’s teach him a lesson!”

Qin Feng’s rage finally boiled over. With a swish, he pulled off his belt and charged forward, the other security guards surging after him.

A brawl was about to break out. The mood in the hall shifted from schadenfreude to alarm—for the security department’s sake.

People might have looked down on the security team—they were mostly from rural areas, working in the city to support their families—but a fight like this would surely get them all fired.

The sales rep, moments ago so arrogant, turned pale with fear, rooted to the spot, eyes wide in dread, awaiting the coming storm.

“Damn it!” Qin Feng was at the front, swinging his heavy, metal-studded belt with all his might.

“Ah!” The sales rep shrieked, squeezing his eyes shut in terror. But after a moment, nothing happened. He slowly opened his eyes.

Standing before him was Old Stick—the black-skinned, gaunt security guard he’d always ignored, who looked more like a peasant than a protector. But now, staring at the man he’d always scorned, he felt an unexpected wave of gratitude.

No one had seen Old Stick step in, but there he was, gripping the fearsome belt tightly in one hand.

“Let go, Old Stick!” Qin Feng, still ablaze with fury, shouted as he tried to wrench the belt free. But no matter how he pulled, Old Stick’s bony hand didn’t budge.

“I’ll handle this,” Old Stick said flatly, his voice as emotionless and languid as ever, as though he’d just woken from a nap.

“But Old Stick, today—”

“I’ll handle it.” His tone was exactly the same as before.

“But—”

Old Stick didn’t wait for Qin Feng to finish. He released the belt, flicked his cigarette to the floor, stubbed it out with his toe, and finally looked up at the sales rep, who was gazing at him with gratitude.

“You said you’d buy him a pair of shoes?” Old Stick asked, expressionless.

The sales rep nodded eagerly. “Of course! Not just for him—after the bonus, I’ll buy you a new pair, too!”

Old Stick shook his head. “No need.”

“No need?” The sales rep looked confused. “Too little? I’ll buy three pairs, how about that…”

Old Stick interrupted him. “Better that we compensate you.”

“Compensate me? For what?” The sales rep was utterly bewildered.

He didn’t have time to work it out before a sudden numbness shot through his left side, followed by a wave of searing pain and a jolt that sent him flying backward, crashing to the floor.

No one saw how Old Stick moved. No one cared to find out. His next words sent a chill through the crowd: “Aim carefully, everyone, or you’ll end up owing him more than a set of clothes.”

The security guards, pent-up and furious, exploded into action like a pack of unleashed beasts. Though the promise had been to pay for a set of clothes, no one cared for details now. They simply let loose.

The onlookers were left frozen in shock. They were used to air-conditioned office comfort—none had ever witnessed such a scene. Beneath their astonishment, each was secretly grateful not to have joined that ill-fated sales rep in provoking these fearsome security men.

“Stop this at once!”

Zhang Hua arrived, immaculate in his tailored suit, shoes polished to a mirror shine, hair combed so neatly it could reflect his face—a look clearly prepared for the upcoming awards ceremony. But as he reached the lobby, he caught sight of his sales department member being pummeled.

Old Stick signaled the others to halt and quietly withdrew to a corner, squatting down to smoke in silence. Quarrels and brawls were never his thing.

“What are you all doing?” Zhang Hua barked, though his tone was less forceful than usual. After all, he’d recently been on the receiving end of one such beating himself. In the face of brute force, neither his position as department head nor his credentials as a “returnee” from abroad counted for much.

“Oh, Director Zhang, it’s nothing. We’re just compensating him with a set of clothes,” Qin Feng replied with his usual sarcasm—he never had much respect for Zhang Hua—then explained what had happened with the stepped foot.

Zhang Hua’s lips twitched in anger, but he kept his cool; his department’s man was clearly at fault. He swallowed his rage and asked, “Where’s your director? I want to talk to him about this!”