Ms. Vuong pushed the paper toward me.
—Two thousand yuan will be deducted from this month’s performance bonus.
I looked down.
The amount was written clearly.
2,000 yuan.
For a few seconds, I thought I had misunderstood.
—Sister Wang…
My voice was calm.
—Are you saying that the company is deducting my bonus because I went to the hospital to donate blood for President Chau’s daughter?
She avoided my eyes.
—Hua Nac, don’t make this emotional.
—The company has rules.
—If we make exceptions for one person, how will we manage the others?
I stared at the penalty notice.
Rules.
That word suddenly sounded ridiculous.
This morning, when they needed me, no one mentioned rules.
No one asked whether I had finished my report.
No one asked whether I had approval.
They only told me:
Go.
Immediately.
Save her.
And I went.
Because someone was dying.
Because I had a rare blood type that could save a life.
Because I thought that after everything I did for the company…
At least they would remember that I was a person.
Not just a resource.
I slowly picked up the paper.
—President Chau knows about this?
Ms. Vuong hesitated for half a second.
Then she answered:
—This is an internal company matter.
I understood.
He knew.
Maybe he even approved it.
After all…
The person whose daughter I saved was the same person who signed the decision.
I smiled.
Not because it was funny.
Because something inside me had finally become clear.
—Okay.
Ms. Vuong looked surprised.
—You understand?
I nodded.
—Yes.
I put the notice into my bag.
Then I stood up.
Before leaving, I turned around.
—Sister Wang.
—Thank you.
She frowned.
—Thank me?
I smiled.
—Yes.
—Thank you for letting me know exactly how much my kindness is worth in this company.
Her expression changed slightly.
But I had already walked out.
That night, I finished the quarterly report.
Not because I still cared.
Because professionalism was the last thing I wanted to lose.
At ten o’clock, I sent the file to my manager.
Then I opened my resignation letter.
My fingers paused above the keyboard.
I had worked at Chau Medical Equipment for seven years.
Seven years.
From an ordinary employee to the person everyone trusted with the most difficult projects.
I had stayed late.
I had traveled.
I had handled emergencies.
I had helped build the company’s overseas market.
When President Chau’s company was struggling, I was one of the people who stayed.
I thought loyalty would eventually be remembered.
I was wrong.
The company remembered my blood.
But not my effort.
I typed the final sentence.
“Please approve my resignation.”
Then I clicked send.
The next morning, the whole company knew.
Hua Nac resigned.
The employee with the rare blood type who saved the president’s daughter.
Some people were shocked.
Others whispered.
“Why would she leave?”
“President Chau definitely gave her a reward.”
“Maybe she wanted more.”
I listened quietly while packing my things.
No one knew.
The only reward I received was a 2,000 yuan deduction.
At noon, my resignation was approved.
The HR department sent me the final paperwork.
Everything was handled quickly.
Almost too quickly.
Like they couldn’t wait to replace me.
Before leaving, I walked past President Chau’s office.
The door was open.
He was inside.
For a moment, I thought about knocking.
Not to ask for money.
Not to complain.
Just to ask one question.
Why?
Why did you allow this?
But my hand stopped.
Because I suddenly realized…
I already knew the answer.
To him, I was an employee.
A useful employee.
A rare blood type.
A person who could solve a crisis.
But never someone worth protecting.
I turned around.
And left.
Three months later.
I had almost forgotten about Chau Medical Equipment.
I started working at a new company.
The salary was better.
The environment was better.
Most importantly…
Nobody treated my kindness as an obligation.
Then one morning, my phone started ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Ten times.
I looked at the screen.
President Chau.
I ignored it.
A few minutes later.
Another call.
Then another.
By noon, my phone showed:
23 missed calls.
By evening:
The next day:
On the third day:
I stared at the number.
One hundred and seventy-five calls.
The man who had not called once after deducting my bonus…
Was now desperately trying to reach me.
Finally, a message arrived.
“Hua Nac, please answer the phone.”
“Tu Tu needs your help.”
I looked at the message.
Then laughed softly.
Three months ago…
His daughter needed my blood.
Today…
She needed something else.
But this time…
I was no longer the employee who would run when they called.
I was no longer the woman who believed kindness had to be repaid with loyalty.
I put the phone face down.
And for the first time…
I let President Chau experience what it felt like.
To call someone who no longer needed to answer.
