The First Tear and the Counterattack — Part Two | by Auntie Lily | Auntie Talks Too Much | Aug, 2025

He was the son of a high-ranking official and had a lot of clout. He would openly flirt with me in the office, sit on my desk, deliberately drink from my cup, and stare at me with his “romantic” eyes, making fun of me. He would pick dumplings from my lunch box and rummage through my personal belongings in my drawer. I would give him a cold stare, and he would come back a few days later with a piece of chocolate, offering it to me, saying, “Sister, this is for you.” When I was typing, he would lean his oily face on my shoulder. It made me so agitated and restless I couldn’t sleep.

A naive young female colleague even thought he was pursuing me. “He might have a family, but what if he really likes you and has fallen in love with you?” one of them seriously told me once. I was so angry I wanted to yell, “Bullsh*t!”

The truth was simple: he was a playboy who had gotten tired of his usual games and decided to mess with me, a no-nonsense type of person, for a change. There was also another reason for his behavior: he wanted to display his power.

In the workplace, many cases of sexual harassment by a superior are a display of power. He was trying to say, “See? Your department of over 40 people is now a flock of stray dogs after your boss was transferred. I can mess with any of you. I’m harassing her, and does anyone in your department dare to say a word?”

That was his real motive. He wanted to show everyone in the office his power. Why else would he bother me, a female manager, when there were so many beautiful women who would happily fall for him?

So, I fought back. I glared at him. But it was useless. I couldn’t win. His family background was at the peak of its power. He was also close with a newly appointed senior leader. A single word from them could cost me my job. I wouldn’t be fired, but a transfer was entirely plausible. I relied on my job, which often took me abroad, to do a little side business. So I had to play dumb and avoid him as much as I could.

One day, it was about to rain, and he came to our office. He leaned against the doorframe and stared at me, saying, “Lily , it’s going to rain soon. Want a ride home in my car?”

I didn’t even look up. “No, thanks. Your car broke down last time, and I had to push it. I learned my lesson.” He was amused. He walked over to me, leaned down, and said, “This time I’m driving my Toyota Jeep.”

“No, even less. That thing is too heavy. I won’t be able to push it.” I kept my head down, my face set, and continued to work on my documents. I hoped this stalling tactic would work. And it did. Just as we were talking, someone came running in, flustered, and told him, “Hurry up! The director is looking for you in the small conference room. We have a meeting.”

I was finally free. After he left, I packed up my bag and stood up. A colleague came over and said, “I’ll give you a ride home.” I nodded. My colleague was a kind man, but he wasn’t the heroic type. In the workplace, you don’t find many heroes. The rest of the crowd are like lambs waiting to be slaughtered, staring at you with blank eyes. If one or two of them make a sound, you’re lucky.

Sitting in his car, the sky grew dark, and lightning flashed. When the rain became a downpour, he pulled over. We sat there silently. After a while, he said, “Don’t take it to heart, little sister. When it comes to people like that…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence. What can you do about people like that? He was a lamb, just like me, and he didn’t have an answer. The rain outside was heavy, and the road ahead was dark. The car was filled with the low hum of music. My colleague lit a cigarette, and the fog filled the car. In that moment, I started to cry. I tried to hide it, but the more I thought about it, the more wronged and angry I felt. I couldn’t stop. That was my first tear in the workplace.

Of course, my anger finally erupted. In a moment when I was alone with him, I hit him. I was tired of it. I had to fight back. The price was that I had to leave. But I accepted it.

Now, almost 30 years later, I don’t have much wisdom to share or any special tactics to brag about. I was just a rabbit pushed into a corner. When someone breaks my bottom line, I will do anything.

But this incident didn’t affect me too much. I was born with a small “emotional shadow area.” You have to despise your enemy strategically but take them seriously tactically.

I live by the motto: “Think a lot, feel little. Forget quickly, get mad slowly.” If you can’t forget and get mad easily, you will suffer. I know of a very talented doctor who died at 52 because of a toxic work environment and a bad boss. That boss was an atheist, so he probably didn’t believe in karma and didn’t have nightmares.

When you get older, you tend to summarize your life experiences and offer advice at the end of your articles. But right now, I have nothing to offer. After a long time of thinking, I can only come up with this: eat and drink well and don’t take anything to heart. Only when we are well-fed can we think of solutions. Only when we sleep well can we fight the good fight.

When you feel wronged, just scream a song. Like this one: “The country of Luocha is twenty-six thousand li to the east. Passing through the seven passages, crossing the sea of fire, and the three inches of yellow clay…”