I stayed up for three months alone hammering out the risk control base of a tens-of-million-level project. On the night of the annual gala, the director and sales carved up my hard work, turning around to grade my performance a C, zeroing out my year-end bonus, and mocking me for lacking a big-picture view. I submitted my resignation letter in public. The day after leaving, a thirty-times concurrency flood peak broke out, and the new system completely collapsed across the board. Faced with a fifty-million sky-high claim, the director who usually looked down from above knelt in public, desperately clutching the hem of my pants and crying for his life to be saved. I pried open his fingers one by one: "Director Shao, the company's big picture is propped up by Ivy League experts; there's no need for a technical migrant worker like me."