Chapter 93: Iron Tyrant Becomes a Temp Worker

Of course, no matter how impressive it seemed, it was merely a display of dominance within his own little world.

After making a circuit through another timeline, Shi Tiexin’s horizons suddenly broadened. As a child, his rivals were the orphaned children fighting for food; as he grew older, his adversaries became the bullies of the Starworker Children’s School. His mind was consumed by thoughts of how to outshine and defeat them.

But now, things were different.

He suddenly realized that being king of the orphanage was nothing to be proud of, and even the bullies at the Starworker Children’s School were just low-level figures, not worth his attention. His true competitors had never been them; instead, they should be the prodigies of Phoenix Song First High.

They should be Zhou Zhengyang, Gu Xuechao, Fang Qingjue—those true geniuses who lacked neither talent nor perseverance. And the targets he ought to pursue were not schoolyard bullies, but the truly strong.

For example, a certain young head nurse at the Central Hospital in Upper City District.

Yes, he should pursue such a person—young, with astonishing cultivation, fair-skinned and beautiful, petite and delicate, and most importantly, her...

Buzz. His wristwatch vibrated again.

I know, I know! You don’t have to keep buzzing to remind me, wristwatch. I know it’s my creditor, stop reminding me already!

A thousand value points—a considerable sum indeed. Thinking of this, Shi Tiexin’s steps grew less composed, and he hurried toward the sixth floor of the building.

The first through fifth floors housed various activity rooms, canteens, and even so-called classrooms. The sixth was the administrative level, and from the seventh floor upward were the dormitories. The director’s office was on the sixth floor, occupying the best-lit spot.

As Shi Tiexin reached the director’s office, the door swung open. A man in a crisp uniform strode out arrogantly, followed by a greasy-looking middle-aged man in his forties or fifties.

“No need to see me off,” said the uniformed man, turning his head bluntly. “Gather everyone when the time comes; I’ll make my selection. If I’m not satisfied, future cooperation might be off the table.”

“Rest assured, you’ll have the best candidates, the finest workers!” The middle-aged man nodded and bowed like a wagging old dog, an outdated wristwatch buzzing in sync with his ingratiating smile. The uniformed youth seemed to receive some notification and nodded, mildly pleased.

Turning, the uniformed youth spotted Shi Tiexin, sizing him up from head to toe as if inspecting livestock, then snorted and walked away.

Shi Tiexin noticed the nameplate on his chest—Personnel Officer, Starworker Paper Industries, Zhang Quan.

Shi Tiexin frowned. Was it time for the hiring units to come picking again? Unhappy, he watched Zhang Quan swagger off, then turned to look at the greasy man.

This man might once have had a thick head of hair, but now he was bald. His height wasn’t short, but years of bowing and scraping had left him with a habitual stoop. This unimposing figure was none other than the orphanage director, Situ Zhennan.

After sending Zhang Quan off, Director Situ beckoned Shi Tiexin, “Come in.”

Though he spoke of coming in, he didn’t enter the office but quickly sealed the door and turned into a small side room. Inside, it was a chaotic mess, with all sorts of things scattered about.

Shi Tiexin wasn’t surprised; since he was thirteen, he’d been the Iron Tyrant and had dealt with Director Situ often. The director’s office was clean and luxurious, but if there were no guests, the old bald head never used it. It was kept sealed, untouched, and thus uncleaned—the bald head had his own “dog’s nest” for daily business.

As he put it—who has time for appearances? Over two thousand mouths waiting to be fed!

“Sit,” he said, clearing a spot amid the clutter. “You saw it yourself; in a few days, Starworker Paper Industries will come to select workers. Gather everyone up; let them take whoever they want.”

Shi Tiexin nodded. This was tradition at the orphanage.

The orphanage’s funds were extremely limited, only supporting the children until they turned sixteen—old enough by law to work. After that, they had to fend for themselves. Still, the orphanage didn’t just toss them into society to survive unaided; it provided an opportunity for labor.

Tumu Fortress was an agricultural city. The Agricultural, Pasture, and Breeding Districts nearby, and even secondary industries like papermaking, were relatively developed. By law, these industries had to allocate jobs to orphans in proportion to their scale. These labor-intensive industries needed workers, so every year, recruiters would come to pick candidates.

There were several paper mills, but Starworker Paper Industries offered the best conditions among them. Working there paid better than the farms, and much better than the waste dust factories.

Each year, orphans who turned fifteen were gathered for about a year of “trial work.” Those who passed were hired; those who didn’t—well, they were thrown into society to fend for themselves.

This annual selection had its own nicknames at the orphanage. The kinder ones called it “choosing eunuchs and palace maids,” but there were plenty of more vulgar terms—the orphanage kids were expert at profanity, with a limitless supply of crude names.

No helping it; a full granary breeds shame and honor. Who had money for teachers and nurturing education here? The children were wild weeds, growing untamed and irregular, but fiercely resilient.

“You handle the selection as you see fit,” Director Situ continued, scratching his bald head. “There’s another matter to tell you. I’ve found an opening at a security company—pulled some old connections after much begging. But they don’t trust us much, so they want someone from our side to do a month’s trial. After much thought, you’re the best fit.”

Director Situ looked at Shi Tiexin and nodded approvingly. “Your image is right, your qualities are the best we have. You’ve gone to school, you don’t talk much, so you won’t put your foot in your mouth when speaking to the security company’s management. Those loudmouth brats, I wouldn’t dare send them.”

Shi Tiexin wasn’t surprised; he’d come today precisely to see if the director had any work available to help pay off his debt. This security company job was better than anything he’d imagined.

Only one question remained.

“Is there pay during the trial?”

Most trial workers received no pay, especially the orphans—after a year of hard work, they got nothing, and often had to subsidize the place themselves.

“There is,” the director replied firmly. “Meals are provided during the trial, but not lodging—you can come back to sleep. Pay is daily, ten points per day, but if you break the rules or perform poorly, deductions will be made.”

Ten points a day? That meant he’d need to work ten days to scrape together enough for the first debt payment. The wage was higher than Shi Tiexin had expected. Ten days—just enough, though a bit tight. He might fall slightly short, and the local civil exam also required registration and testing fees; he’d need to find other ways, but with some effort, it should suffice.

This job wasn’t bad at all.

Oh, right—one more thing.

“Can I take leave after starting?”