The Cost of Honor

Old Wang retired, not gloriously, but "gloriously laid off."

The word "glorious," in Old Wang's life, was like a gilded nail, firmly hammered into the wooden board of his "life," emitting a harsh metallic scraping sound. He was once the pride of the entire unit, no, it should be said, the pride of the entire country—a model who received a First Class Merit in the army less than a year after graduating with a bachelor's degree. At the time, the publicity was overwhelming, and Old Wang's name was tightly bound to phrases like "promising young talent" and "role model of the times."

Back then, Old Wang was still called Wang Qiang, a young man full of ideals and enthusiasm. He still remembers, during the award ceremony, the leader shook his hand, his eyes glittering with excitement, as if he were a polished gem, something that could be used to embellish their brilliant achievements.

Old Wang can no longer remember the details of the meritorious deed. He only recalls that during that exercise, he was inexplicably assigned a "high-risk" task. At the time, he was full of zeal, and his mind was only filled with slogans like "serving the people" and the honor he was about to receive. He was lucky to survive, and then, he became a "hero."

The life of a "hero" was completely different from what he had imagined. He was transferred from the grassroots company to the propaganda department, and his main job every day was to write reports and accept wave after wave of interviews. He was required to remain humble while also appropriately displaying his "heroic spirit." This delicate balance made Old Wang feel suffocated.

Later, Wang Qiang slowly turned into Old Wang. He began to realize that he was just a symbol, a carefully packaged tool. His photos were printed in brochures, his deeds were adapted into plays, his image was sculpted into statues, but he himself was gradually emptied out.

Old Wang had also tried to resist. He had proposed to his leaders that he would prefer to return to the grassroots and continue doing practical things for the country. But the leader said earnestly, "Old Wang, you are now a role model for the unit, you have to set an example for others, this is a higher mission!"

Mission? Old Wang smiled wryly. Every day at work, looking at the publicity materials related to his "heroic deeds," he felt it was the biggest satire on himself. He began to slack off, drifting through his work. He discovered that even "heroes" get tired.

Finally, the unit was going to "reform," and Old Wang, the former "hero," was included in the layoff list because he was "not adapted to the new situation and lacked innovative spirit." He felt no anger, no resentment, only a sense of relief, a sense of finally being able to end this absurd drama.

On the day of his retirement, Old Wang saw a newly erected statue at the gate of the unit. It was a depiction of him in his youth, vigorous and with a determined gaze. On the base of the statue, his name was engraved, along with a line of gilded characters: "Learn from the Hero, Be Loyal and Dedicated."

Old Wang touched his increasingly thinning hair and looked at the statue. He laughed. The laughter was tinged with bitterness, helplessness, and a hint of pride that even he himself had not noticed.

He turned and walked into the bustling crowd, like an ordinary old man walking into an ordinary old age. He knew that he had once been hailed as a "hero," but the real battle had just begun, for a life that truly belonged to him. He decided to apply for a job at a private security company. After all, he had once "received a meritorious service," and now his body was still quite healthy. This was another new starting point for serving the people.

"Hello, are you Mr. Wang?" The interviewer was a young man. He looked at Old Wang's resume, his eyes filled with doubt. "Your resume says that you have received a 'First Class Merit'? Frankly speaking, this doesn't seem to match the professional skills required for our company's security work."

Old Wang was stunned. He suddenly realized that his proud title of "hero" had become the biggest obstacle here. He wanted to explain, but he didn't know where to start.

"However, our company has recently launched a new project," the interviewer continued, "and we need some employees with special experiences to maintain the company's image. Perhaps you could give it a try?"

Old Wang nodded. He knew that this was another form of being "needed," but he was used to it.

Three days later, Old Wang put on a brand new uniform and stood at the company's gate. He became the company's new image spokesperson, a living "hero" statue. His task was to salute and smile at passers-by during working hours and after work.

He looked up at the huge banner above the company building, which read: "Learn from the Hero, Be Loyal and Dedicated." He laughed again. This time, his smile was more bitter and more helpless, but it seemed to contain a hint of hidden resistance. He stood up straight, gave a standard military salute to the crowd, and then slowly raised the megaphone in his hand.

"Hello, everyone!" Old Wang's voice was clear and loud. He paused, and then said in a calm tone, "Today's security company slogan is: 'Please watch your step, don't step on the floor tiles at our company's entrance, they are very expensive!'"

The crowd instantly fell silent. Everyone, including the security guards, looked at each other in confusion. Old Wang looked at them, a hint of imperceptible cunning flashing in his eyes. He knew that his war was far from over.