Chapter Forty-Two

Dong Jue was the first to leave. He was not optimistic about the market prospects of hydrogen fuel cells in the first place, and he was full of complaints about Peng Kun's charity work. He believed that Peng Kun lacked the decisiveness and ruthlessness that an entrepreneur should have. The company was already teetering on the brink of collapse, but he was still stubbornly supporting the expensive nursing home. How could such "womanly benevolence" lead to great achievements in the dog-eat-dog business world?

When payday arrived, everyone discovered that only half of their monthly salary had been deposited into their accounts. Just as they were wondering what was going on, they received an email from the HR department explaining that the company was currently facing cash flow pressure. In order to ensure the company's basic operation, 50% of the salary for this month would be paid first, and the remaining salary would be paid as soon as the financial situation improved.

Whispers filled the office. Some people silently opened job websites and began searching for suitable positions, while others got up, pushed back their chairs, and walked solemnly towards the break room. Only a few long-time employees continued working as usual, as if nothing had happened.

Panic gripped the company, and rumors spread like wildfire. Soon, even the security guard at the gate heard the devastating news that the company was on the verge of bankruptcy.

Peng Kun kept the company's predicament a secret, but the news still reached the nursing home. The cafeteria's menu became increasingly monotonous, caregivers left one after another, and the benches in the corridor hadn't been wiped for a long time, covered in a thick layer of dust.

The elderly people still gathered in small groups in the courtyard, but the expressions on their faces changed from leisurely and serene to worried and uneasy.

The nursing home's monthly expenses for food, utilities, medical care, and staff salaries are fixed. Peng Kun has recently been waking up in a cold sweat frequently. Even when he has no work or social engagements, he always leaves the nursing home before dawn and doesn't return until late at night. He is afraid to see the elderly people's worried faces and even more afraid to hear their helpless sighs.

One afternoon, Fang Zeduan went back to the nursing home to retrieve a document for Peng Kun. Just as he was about to leave, he was surrounded by the elderly residents. He had worked there for over half a year and was already quite familiar with them. Unable to find Peng Kun, the residents could only try to get information from him.

"Fang, I heard Xiao Peng's company ran into trouble?" The speaker was Jiang Shouzhi. He had lived an ordinary life, but after his wife passed away in her fifties, he and his son, Jiang Tao, depended on each other. Their lives took a sharp turn for the worse ten years ago when their house was demolished for redevelopment. They received a large sum of compensation, but their son became addicted to gambling and gambled it all away in two years. One early spring morning, Jiang Tao, who had been playing mahjong all night, won a hand of pure suit with a lucky draw. In his excitement, he suffered a ruptured blood vessel in his brain. After being admitted to the ICU, Jiang Tao remained unconscious. Grandpa Jiang exhausted his life savings and borrowed over 100,000 yuan from relatives and friends, but ultimately, unable to bear the burden any longer, he reluctantly gave up treatment.

His child died, and he lost his house and all his money. Unable to repay his debts, Jiang Shouzhi was too ashamed to face his relatives and friends, so he left his hometown and came to Longjin. At first, he could find some odd jobs and barely make ends meet, but as he got older, he could no longer find work and could only eke out a living by collecting recyclables.

At Changchun Nursing Home, he was considered the most knowledgeable and therefore quite respected. Seeing Fang Zeduan stammering, Grandpa Jiang asked again, "Is it... going bankrupt?"

"Who told you all this?"

“Little Dong,” Grandpa Jiang said, gesturing with his hand, “is that the young man with long hair.”

Fang Zeduan frowned: "Why did he come here?"

“A while ago, he moved a printer out of the warehouse, saying that the company owed him wages and he had to take something to pay off the debt. Dean Feng argued with him for a long time, and then called Xiao Peng before letting him go.”

Fang Zeduan was so angry that his face changed color. He thought to himself that this kid really had a rebellious streak in the back of his head. No wonder he could fall out with his superiors wherever he went.

"What did he say?" Fang Zeduan asked angrily.

"What he meant was that Xiao Peng's company was about to go under, and now he could barely support himself, so he probably wouldn't be able to take care of us old folks anymore," Grandpa Jiang shook his head helplessly, his voice hoarse and trembling. "He also did some calculations for us, saying that our nursing home costs hundreds of thousands of yuan every month, which will only make the company go bankrupt faster."

Fang Zeduan was speechless, because what Dong Jue said was true, and the elders understood when they saw that he remained silent.

After he left, everyone remained gathered in the courtyard. No one left, and no one spoke. After a long while, Grandpa Jiang sighed heavily, "Alas, we are all a burden!"

As the words fell, the courtyard grew even quieter. Dark clouds pressed down heavily, like a vast gray curtain. The elderly people, hunched over, stood in the cold wind, recalling the countless winters before they came here. Underpasses, park toilets, hospital emergency rooms, under overpasses… these were all their shelters. The cold kept them awake all night, their eyes watering from the wind, enduring until dawn. "Heating" had become their most extravagant wish throughout the entire winter.

Jiang Shouzhi would never forget that bitterly cold winter. His hands were covered in chilblains, ulcerated and swollen. His feet, clad only in thin shoes, were numb on the hard, frozen ground. He was cold and hungry, the north wind cutting like knives on his face, reminding him of the ancient torture known as "lingchi" (death by a thousand cuts). He could no longer walk, so he put down his snakeskin bag and leaned against the air conditioner unit outside the KFC to warm himself. Through the glass, he saw a young couple sitting in the warm restaurant, a large bucket of golden fried chicken on the table. They ate their fill and left, leaving several pieces in the bucket.

Jiang Shouzhi licked his chapped lips, his stomach growling twice. He hadn't eaten all day and really wanted to rush in and devour the remaining fried chicken. But then he looked down at his appearance: his cotton coat was torn, his shoes were covered in mud, and he was carrying a bulging, deformed snakeskin bag—he looked almost like a beggar. Going in like that, he'd probably be kicked out. Starving to death was a small matter, but losing his integrity was a big deal… He struggled internally for a long time, and even after the waiter came and cleaned the table, he ultimately didn't take that step.

He squatted by the vent for a while to catch his breath before swaying to his feet. He walked to the nearest trash can, pulled out half a discarded hamburger, and wolfed it down in the cold wind.

Snowflakes began to fall, and Grandpa Jiang's deep, hoarse voice broke the silence: "Two years ago, I came to the nursing home and lived here without worrying about food or clothing for two years, enjoying a life I'd never known before. Changchun Nursing Home has been open for three years, and many people have been here longer than me. The nursing home's annual expenses of several million yuan are all borne by Xiao Peng alone. Let's all ask ourselves, without Xiao Peng, how many of us would still be standing here?"

Now, Xiao Peng's company is on the verge of bankruptcy. Hearing this news has left me feeling uneasy. I haven't slept a wink for several nights, wondering what we can do for him. But after much thought, I realized there's nothing we can do. Not only can we not do anything, but if we stay here, we'll only continue to be a burden to him..."

At this point, Grandpa Jiang's lips trembled. He tried to open his mouth, but his throat felt like it was blocked, and he couldn't utter a single word. After a long while, he swallowed and continued, choking back tears, "We're already halfway to the grave, and this is how our lives are going to be, but we can't ruin Xiao Peng's life!"

"Yes, we can't be a burden to him anymore."

"Let's go, let's leave the nursing home!" the elderly people said one after another.

Some people were still hesitant, but then they thought that Xiao Peng's company was about to go bankrupt, and the nursing home would have to close down sooner or later, so they were going to leave sooner or later anyway.

The snow fell even heavier, thick and dense, filling the sky and earth. Dean Feng stood by the window, looking down at the elderly people gathered together, and couldn't help but wonder, didn't they feel the cold? Just as he was about to go downstairs to check on them, he saw the crowd slowly disperse.

Dean Feng took out his phone and glanced at the time: 3:10. It seemed the snow wasn't going to stop anytime soon. The weather forecast said this would be the heaviest snowfall in the city in years.

"Let's go home, the roads will be closed by the heavy snow." Dean Feng thought to himself, grabbed his car keys from the table, and left work early.

The snow was still falling, the world blending into a cold white expanse. In the snow-covered courtyard, apart from a few bedridden, disabled, and demented elderly people with Alzheimer's, all twenty-six other residents appeared. Carrying their meager belongings, they supported each other, braving the wind and snow, and left Changchun Nursing Home with many backward glances.

Despite their fear of winter, much like stray animals, and despite the fact that hunger, cold, and even death await them ahead.

The heavy snow swallowed everything in the world, leaving only a mess of footprints.