Ten-Yuan Storm

"Ten yuan? You're so stingy!" In the WeChat group, the homeroom teacher, Ms. Li, followed this sentence with an eye-rolling emoji. Zhang Qiang stared at his phone screen, his face flushed. He knew this "gentle reminder" was aimed at him.

The cause was a "charity donation" organized by the class to buy winter supplies for children in mountain areas. After much hesitation, Zhang Qiang still clicked "Donate 10 yuan." It wasn't that he was unwilling, but he was indeed tight on money due to recent company layoffs. He thought that ten yuan was also a token of goodwill, and every little bit counts. Who knew that this "goodwill" would instantly become the target of a public shaming.

Over the next few days, he felt like he had been stripped naked and thrown onto the street. In the parents' group, parents who donated higher amounts "generously opened their purses," accompanied by some "words of love," subtly hinting at his "miserliness." Some parents even directly @mentioned him, asking if he was facing any difficulties. Their concern on the surface was like knives cutting into his self-esteem.

What made him feel even worse was that even colleagues he usually had a good relationship with began to distance themselves from him. During a lunch break, he overheard some colleagues discussing, "I didn't think Old Zhang, who always seems so reliable, would be so stingy when it comes to donations."

Zhang Qiang felt like he was suffocating, as if trapped in an invisible net, unable to move. He wanted to explain, but what was there to explain? Explain that he had no money? Or explain that he didn't want to be the subject of gossip? He realized that explaining would only make him look even more pathetic.

He began to become taciturn and even started avoiding crowds. His greatest pleasure each day was looking at his phone and then quietly putting it down. During this time, his phone received a lot of messages, some asking why he wasn't talking, some scolding him for being stingy, and of course, more people were just watching the drama unfold.

Until one day, he received a private message.

"Mr. Zhang, hello, I am an investigator from the Civil Affairs Bureau. We are investigating your donation of ten yuan. Please cooperate with our work."

Zhang Qiang was stunned. He had only donated ten yuan, and it had actually alerted the Civil Affairs Bureau? He hesitantly opened the link attached to the private message, and a news article appeared before him. The headline boldly read: "Ten Yuan Donation Mockery Triggers Public Opinion Storm, Civil Affairs Bureau Intervenes in Investigation."

In the news, he was portrayed as a "miserly" example abandoned by society, while the homeroom teacher, Ms. Li, became a "role model of love," eagerly reported by the media. Various so-called experts and scholars came forward one after another, analyzing the "moral kidnapping" and "degeneration of humanity" behind the "donation" from social, psychological and other perspectives.

He suddenly understood that it was no longer about how much money he had donated, but that he had touched a "donation" unspoken rule, a social topic that could be infinitely amplified. What he donated was not just ten yuan, but a trending topic, a nationwide discussion, a "carnival" he couldn't control.

He sighed, turned off his phone, and walked to the balcony.

The sky was hazy, much like his current mood. He lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and the smoke dissipated in the air, eventually disappearing. Suddenly, he saw a familiar car stopping downstairs, the car of the company where he used to work. The door opened, and a familiar figure stepped out, his former boss.

His boss was holding a document bag and walked straight towards his floor. Zhang Qiang felt a pang in his heart, unsure of what he wanted.

"Knock, knock, knock," a knock on the door sounded, and Zhang Qiang opened it.

"Zhang Qiang, I've come to bring you something." His boss said with a smile, handing him the document bag.

Zhang Qiang took the document bag and opened it. Inside was a contract. The contract stated that Zhang Qiang was hired as the head of the newly established "Charity Department" of the company, with a monthly salary of 50,000 yuan, plus an end-of-year bonus.

"What does this mean?" Zhang Qiang asked in confusion.

"The company feels that your donation incident has attracted widespread public attention and is very newsworthy, so they want you to be in charge of this area of business." The boss patted Zhang Qiang on the shoulder, "You see, donating ten yuan can bring such great value. It's really a win-win!"

Zhang Qiang was completely stunned. He thought of the ridicule, the isolation, the gossip, and the ten yuan he donated became a tool for a turning point in his life. He looked at the smile on his boss's face and felt a chill. He understood that in this absurd society, even "stinginess" could be packaged as a kind of "value," everything became a business, and everything was full of irony.

And he himself was just a small prop in this absurd drama. He suddenly felt that his ten yuan donation was actually, truly, damn worth it!