When he arrived at Mr. Wang’s office, he found several delicious dishes already laid out on the coffee table in the seating area.
Yan Feifan didn’t stand on ceremony with Mr. Wang and sat right down to eat.
Halfway through the meal, Wang Chuan told him that the five-million-yuan incentive bonus from the superstar Ding Xuan had arrived, and that his share would be two million.
After waiting a moment, Wang Chuan saw that Yan Feifan had no particular reaction and was still busy eating, so he couldn’t help but ask, "You don’t have any objections?"
Yan Feifan shook his head. "No objections."
"You’re the one who negotiated the five million, sir. If I’d negotiated it myself, I would have asked for one million at most."
"To be getting two million... if I didn’t have to maintain some decorum while eating, I’d be laughing out loud with joy right now."
Wang Chuan chuckled. "As long as you don’t have any objections and you’re happy, that’s all that matters."
"Feifan, you must know that the Affiliated Hospital, as a public institution, is non-profit."
"Our plastic surgery center is the sole exception. We’re responsible for our own profits and losses, and every year we have to turn over a large portion of our revenue to the hospital to cover their shortfalls..."
Yan Feifan cut in, "Sir, you don’t need to explain."
"The Affiliated Hospital trained me. Now that I have the ability, it’s only right that I give back."
"Besides, with this income, I must be one of the top earners in the hospital now, right?"
Wang Chuan chuckled. "More than just ’one of the top.’ You’re probably number one."
As he spoke, he got up, went to his desk, and took seven thick red envelopes out of a drawer.
"Everyone gets a share. These are for the anesthesiologist, the surgical nurses, and the on-duty nurses from that night."
"I’ll let you be the good guy. You can hand them out."
Yan Feifan glanced over and saw that Mr. Wang had already prepared everything. The red envelopes were of varying thicknesses, and each had a name written on it.
The thickest one had the anesthesiologist’s name on it.
Yan Feifan estimated by sight that it probably contained about thirty thousand.
Meng Yao and Ye Lin’s envelopes looked like they held about twenty thousand each.
The thinnest ones, for the on-duty nurses, looked like they had two or three thousand.
Yan Feifan put the envelopes in his briefcase and then suggested, "Sir, everyone sends red envelopes through their phones these days. Giving out cash is such a hassle."
Wang Chuan shot him a look. "I’m not behind the times."
"Giving out cash not only helps with taxes, but the feeling of that heavy stack of bills in your hand is completely different."
"It’s especially meaningful for married men like Mr. Chen, the anesthesiologist."
"When you..."
Wang Chuan paused, then shook his head. "With your income, you’ll probably never understand the bitter struggle of a working-class married man trying every trick in the book to build up a secret stash of cash."
Yan Feifan retorted, "Sir, I know that feeling all too well. Ever since I was a kid, my older sister has managed all my money."
"I’ve only just recently gained my financial independence..."
After lunch, Yan Feifan hurried over to the trauma surgery department for instruction from Mrs. Yu.
A little after six in the evening, Yan Feifan was at the south gate of the Affiliated Hospital, where he got into a military vehicle that had come to pick him up and headed for the Armed Police General Hospital...