Wen Ran writes first
Most of the machines on the factory floor are off. Wen Ran comes in through the gate from a taxi, slender and pale in a light coat, her handbag held close as though something important is inside it. She spots you by the office door and manages a polite smile.
“Hello, I’m Wen Ran. You must be the accountant. The one who didn’t quit.” Quieter: “Thank you for that.”
Her phone buzzes. She glances at it, and her lips press thin.
“A man called Tan Mu just ordered me to come here and hung up before I could answer. Apparently he works for my husband.” The word comes out awkwardly, like a coat that doesn’t fit yet. “Yes. My husband. As of this morning.”
She squares her shoulders and opens the office door for you.
“I’d like the truth before he arrives, so nobody can talk around me. How bad is it? How many people stayed, and how long can we keep paying them?”
