Striving tirelessly until nearly the age of thirty.

"Chen Jue, you'll work until the end of this month. Starting from the first of next month, you don't need to come in anymore."

"The company isn't doing well. The shareholders had a meeting that lasted until three in the morning yesterday. They're planning to liquidate and dissolve the company—there's really nothing we can do."

Inside a stylish glass-walled office, a well-dressed woman in her thirties, the HR manager, delivered the news in a businesslike tone to a slightly greasy, bespectacled young man.

"Sister Li, I've worked here for over four years. I'm nearly thirty—how am I supposed to find another job with such a central position?" The young man protested, his face twisted with unwillingness.

Despite the roaring excitement outside for the Asian Games, the job market was bleak; layoffs were a regular occurrence. Even in Hangzhou's Binjiang High-Tech Industrial Park, countless small and medium enterprises teetered on the edge of bankruptcy and closure.

In the very building where Chen Jue worked—the Huaye Tower—he saw new businesses moving in and others clearing out every day.

As the saying goes, "even a hero is brought low by a lack of money." Without financial support, it's impossible to get by in society! This applied not just to individuals but to companies as well.

"Didn't General Manager Liu and General Manager Zhou try to introduce you to other company owners?" Sister Li asked, surprised.

"No reply," Chen Jue answered glumly.

"It's not the post-Spring Festival job-hopping season, so there aren't any vacancies for key positions! I've sent out tons of resumes lately, but nothing's worked. Besides, with the current economic climate and layoffs everywhere, how could I possibly find a suitable new job so quickly?" Chen Jue grew agitated, nearly shouting in the office.

"I can't help you either. I'll be leaving and looking for a job next month myself."

"The company is already generous to compensate us a few months’ salary. If you have other demands, you'll have to negotiate with the bosses yourself." Sister Li shook her head, her expression helpless.

With the conversation at this point, Chen Jue could only purse his lips bitterly. After all, she was just another employee.

Why make things harder for fellow workers? Everyone was an adult; arguing wouldn't solve anything. Helpless, Chen Jue got up and left the HR office.

...

Outside the HR office, passing by the conference room, Chen Jue caught the muffled sounds of an argument through the heavy wooden doors.

The company executives and shareholders were tearing at each other for the last scraps of profit.

"When the tree falls, the monkeys scatter," Chen Jue sighed inwardly.

Back at his workstation, several colleagues were openly discussing their prospects for new jobs.

---

When the avalanche comes, not a single snowflake is innocent.

Now that the company was dissolving, not only were the bosses and shareholders scrambling for their interests, but the employees, like Chen Jue, were also seeking the best way out for themselves.

At times like this, who had the mental energy to keep working?

"Brother Jue, how'd it go? Is the severance still N+1?" A skinny, bespectacled young man poked his head over the cubicle.

This was Jiang Lin, a junior Chen Jue had taken under his wing a year ago, currently working for him, mostly handling mechanical data tasks and chores. The work was easy, and with a housing subsidy, Jiang Lin earned about seven thousand a month.

But with the company about to be liquidated, Jiang Lin—a senior student who had just found a suitable internship—was worried about facing unemployment right after graduation.

"It's still N+1. For small companies like ours, getting severance at all is a blessing." Chen Jue shook his head. Seeing the hopeful look in his apprentice’s eyes, he could only respond with a helpless expression.

He’d joined this automotive finance and guarantee company in 2019, working for over four years, making him one of the veterans. Thanks to his skill with risk control data, he'd become a junior supervisor, managing three people, with a monthly base salary of twelve thousand, not counting other subsidies.

It wasn’t enough for Chen Jue to live in luxury, but in a high-cost city like Hangzhou, it was just enough to get by.

Losing this stable job meant the past four years of hard work had gone down the drain.

Finding another position with similar pay and benefits would be exceedingly difficult.

First, his diploma from a technical college was a disadvantage; he couldn't get past the credentials barrier for bigger enterprises or banks.

Second, the industry itself was struggling—finance and guarantee companies had been in decline for years.

Mid-level technical positions like risk control data were rare and rarely saw turnover; every job was filled and tightly held.

He’d bought VIP memberships on every job search app, hoping for better resume exposure, but despite sending out tons of applications, he got no response. Chen Jue realized he’d been thoroughly played by the capital-controlled job market, and his temper evaporated.

He'd occasionally seen news online about the tight job market, but never imagined the day would come for him so soon.

...

Sitting at his desk, troubled, with just over ten working days left before forced resignation, Chen Jue had no motivation to work.

He hurriedly finished reviewing the client cases from the risk control system, then used the excuse of needing a bathroom break, handed off his pending tasks to his three subordinates, and told them to call him if anything came up.

After settling these matters, Chen Jue walked through the narrow office area, exited the company, and rode the elevator to the top floor alone.

With land prices soaring in Hangzhou, the ground level outside office buildings had almost entirely become parking lots.

---

Commuters drove past the barrier, paid twenty yuan to park for the workday—twenty in, twenty out.

Hundreds or thousands of parking spots brought in tens of thousands in parking fees daily, an astronomical sum each year.

With such lucrative interests at stake, no property developer would waste ground space on parks or recreational areas—they’d all been moved to the rooftops, a truly bizarre arrangement.

Chen Jue often came up to the rooftop garden during lunch breaks, to get some fresh air, look at the greenery, the pond, the artificial rockery, swing on the swings, and smoke a few cigarettes to relieve stress.

With over three hours left before the end of the workday, the garden was nearly empty, save for a few management types chatting in the distance. Few employees dared to openly skip work and relax up here during office hours.

Click.

He walked to the pond, took out his lighter, and lit a cigarette.

Hiss—exhale.

Chen Jue took a deep drag, hoping the nicotine would stimulate his brain to release more dopamine.

He wanted to feel energized.

But the pressure of life and work was overwhelming. In a fast-paced city like Hangzhou, even after nearly thirty years of hard work, he still hadn’t achieved the life he wanted.

Rent and daily expenses weighed on him, leaving him gasping for air.

Now, even the job he relied on for survival was slipping away. After a few cigarettes, instead of feeling relaxed, Chen Jue only grew more despondent.

In today's trendy terms, he was "emo."

Finishing the last cigarette, he kicked at the pebbles underfoot, squatted down to pick up a particularly smooth one, weighed it in his hand, then shouted at the artificial pond in front of him, "Damn!"

He tossed the stone, skimming it across the water, sending a series of sharp splashes rippling in straight lines across the surface.

But the moment he released the stone, Chen Jue froze.

In his field of vision, a translucent pixelated box appeared out of nowhere, with lines of text scrolling rapidly inside:

[Ding~]

[Action meets requirements]

[Skill acquired: Stone Skipping]