There is definitely something wrong with my assistant (Part 1) "Explain...
I got the assistant's information.
In fact, every employee had a background check before entering the company, but the information about the assistant on hand was checked privately by me under my personal order.
I opened the information and found that I had already read the assistant's early information.
He was a young genius who skipped five grades and was admitted to a top domestic university, where he studied for both his bachelor's and master's degrees. I met him at a competition when he was eighteen years old, and that year he graduated from graduate school.
I found the information before he skipped a grade in junior high school.
Above is his transcript.
Very good, at the level of “other people’s children”.
But compared to his resume, this level of excellence is not enough.
In the photo taken when he was in primary school, the boy’s eyebrows and eyes were slightly curved, showing a lively youthful look.
This also indirectly confirms the accuracy of the information.
The information shows that he has a happy family and good interpersonal relationships.
He has a pair of parents who love him, and a younger brother. His family is well-off. Both parents attach great importance to accompanying their children. The healthy family environment and education have enabled him to be moderate in dealing with people.
Therefore, he has many friends.
Not only is he at the top of his class, he is also good at many sports. Every weekend, many children come to his doorstep and ask him to go out and play basketball with them.
The only regret in all this happiness is that his younger brother is in poor health and has a congenital heart disease.
Therefore, he loves his younger brother very much.
If he continues to grow up along the normal life trajectory, he should grow up step by step and become a good student in the eyes of his teachers, a good child in the eyes of his parents, and a school idol and a top student in the eyes of his classmates.
But in his first year of junior high school, he showed extraordinary learning ability and skipped five grades.
Before this, he had not learned in advance what he would learn in the next few years.
He went from being a "nerd" to a "genius", and from being a "talent" to a "genius".
I tapped his photo lightly with my index finger.
The boy in the photo smiled with the liveliness that was typical of his age.
His transformation did not attract much attention.
After all, the child is still young and has not yet settled down, so it is possible that he will suddenly come to his senses.
Everyone was amazed at the birth of a genius.
After he was admitted to university, apart from causing some stir during his enrollment period, there was no news about him afterwards.
I looked through the honors he received during his college and graduate studies.
a lot of.
He has received almost every honor worth having.
Logically speaking, a student this young and so outstanding should be a celebrity in the school.
But there was no discussion related to him on either the school forum or the confession wall.
Very strange.
It was like he suddenly became a transparent person.
Perhaps because he left his parents too early, he became somewhat alienated from his parents and younger brother when he grew up.
This alienation continued even after work.
As my personal assistant, he was entitled to twenty days of home leave every year, but he never used it.
No matter it is the weekend or late at night, he always answers my call immediately.
When I saw him, he was always in formal clothes, using a white ceramic cup with no patterns on it, and wearing plain gold-rimmed glasses.
He doesn't wear jewelry and doesn't seem to have any hobbies. He always responds to my requests with a smile.
"Okay, President."
He is a perfect all-around assistant.
But he doesn't look like a human being.
As a human being, you should have desires.
And he seemed to have no desires or demands, his only task was to serve as my assistant and meet all my needs.
Compared to a person, he is more like a handy knife.
The only time this knife got out of control was when I was locked up in the Yellow Mosquito system with him.
He takes the initiative.
At that time, he was behind me, holding my waist, and I couldn't see his expression.
But his voice and movements were extremely calm, and it was more like he was processing documents than doing something like this, meticulously acting like a machine to help me relieve myself.
…
I pinched my eyebrows.
At this time, there was a knock on the door.
I put away the brain.
"Enter."
The assistant came in and handed me the document, "President, this is the information related to the cooperation with the Zhou family."
"Put it on the table."
"Okay, President."
He carried the documents in both hands and placed them on my desk.
Because of his posture, I glanced in his direction.
The file is a bit thick, but the thickness and weight should not be a problem for an assistant.
In order to protect the documents, he often holds them with his left forearm and uses his right hand to protect them to prevent them from falling.
But this time, he held the lower part of the document with both hands and lifted it up.
This posture is usually used when the document is too thick or too heavy.
I took a visual inspection of the pile of documents.
It's not too thick, let alone too heavy.
Perhaps because I was silent for too long, the assistant looked at me.
I met his gaze and looked at him.
It was early autumn and the temperature in the office was just right. His forehead was slightly damp, as if he had done some physical work.
My eyes dropped down to his hands.
He still wore his gloves.
He said he had an injury on his hand.
Logically, in order to prevent pressure on the wound on his hand, he should have chosen to use his arm to hold up the documents.
Unless, his arm is more seriously injured.
My eyebrows jumped.
"come over."
The assistant came over and said, "Boss, what's the mission?"
"Don't move."
I grabbed his wrists and unbuttoned his shirt cuffs.
"President?"
I didn't respond and pushed his sleeves up.
No wounds were seen.
Covered in bandages.
Layers of bandages spread from the wrists upwards into the depths of the shirt.
There was a faint hint of blood on the forearm.
I took off his gloves.
Under the glove, the previous wound had healed, leaving a light scar, but a new wound appeared on the back of the hand.
I closed my eyes, suppressed my anger, and rang the bell to ask the doctor to come over.
"Explain it to me."
This time the assistant did not answer immediately.
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