这该死的天气,寒风咆哮着。走出公司,姚泉裹紧了大衣,站在凛冽的寒风中,打了一个颤栗。落边的白桦树在寒风中张牙舞爪,像是要将他生吞了一般。已经晚上十一点了。姚泉还在起草、修改一大堆文件,还得伺候上级领导,天天如此。尽管他事事都精益求精,但经理总能从里面挑出骨头来,为难辱骂他。心里的愤怒一直在累积,脸上却总是挂着虚心的笑容。穿过冗长的巷子,一排平房出现在了尽头。斑驳的墙低窄的房间,姚泉却总会如释重负,毕竟胜过公司的压抑。 This damn weather, the roaring wind. Out of the company, Yao Quan wrapped tight coat, standing in the cold wind, hit a tremor. White birch trees fall in the breeze claw, as if to devour his life in general. It’s already past eleven o’clock. Yao Quan is still drafting and revising a lot of documents and has to wait for the higher level leaders every day. Despite all his excellence, but the manager can always pick out the bones from inside, insult him abuse. Heart anger has been accumulated, but his face is always hung with an open smile. Through the lengthy alley, a row of bungalows appeared at the end. Mottled wall narrow room, Yao Quan, but always relieved, after all, better than the company’s depression.