Late at night, Raman drove home with his tired body. When he entered the door, he saw the lights on in the living room, and his old mother was still waiting for him.
"Mom, you don't have to wait for me like this every day." Raman put down his handbag and pushed his mother back to the room to rest. But he knew that no matter what he said, as long as he didn't come home, his mother would always be waiting.
.
"There is food in the refrigerator. You can heat it up in the microwave. Karin was bullied again at school. She came home crying today..." The old mother talked a lot and added before entering the bedroom.
He said, "There are two letters today, and I put them on the dining room table."
After finally letting his mother go to rest, Raman took out another pizza from the refrigerator and put it in the microwave before he had time to read the letter on the table.
Nowadays, people communicate by email or phone, and send letters... It may be some kind of bill, Raman thought.
Raman is an Indian with a very long name. He is from a lower-caste Shudra, which is slightly better than an untouchable. He ran from India to the United States entirely through his own efforts and luck, and did everything possible to transfer his wealth to the United States.
An old mother and a daughter were sent to India and brought back to her.
But this is the limit of Raman's ability. Raman is already very grateful to God for his protection from being able to jump out of the big fire pit in India, but his life in the United States is also very difficult.
When Raman was admitted to the California Institute of Technology majoring in computer science and received a full scholarship, the entire country became a sensation, not to mention the village where he lived at the time.
However, after graduation, he couldn't find a job because of his mediocre grades. In order to continue to mix visas, he went to study for a master's degree in biopharmaceuticals. It is said that this is a popular major. But after graduating from the master's degree, no pharmaceutical factory hired him.
An ordinary graduate student with no reputation and no achievements.
Forced to have no choice, Raman went to study for a doctorate in business administration, hoping to develop into the business world. But no luck, he ended up working as a sales assistant in a small trading company, responsible for importing some toys from China to sell in the United States.
.
Raman is already in his forties, and his annual salary is barely around 40,000. He rents a small house in Santa Monica, Los Angeles. In the eyes of his relatives in India, he has been so successful that it is difficult to look directly at him, but he knows
His life was actually very ordinary, and the glory of his early years had long since left him.
The company's situation has been very bad recently, and Raman is worried that he may not be able to get a work visa for next year. The trouble doesn't stop there. He sent his daughter to India but couldn't send her to an expensive private school, so he had to let her go to an expensive private school.
She was bullied every day by other children at the public school in the community.
His mother obtained the visa on the grounds of medical treatment, but now the visa has long expired. Raman was worried that someone from the immigration office would suddenly show up at his home that day.
There were so many difficulties, and Raman was having a headache and even a little desperate. He couldn't find a way out of the predicament, so he could only watch himself and his family fall into all kinds of troubles and it was difficult to get out of them.
"Strange, this is not a bill." Raman first opened a letter from India, written by his former classmate. The content of the letter was very simple and formally invited him to return to India to serve as the CEO of a pharmaceutical company.
.
Oh... that sounds great.
But it was a pharmaceutical company that had only been established for half a year. It needed investment but no investment, no technology, no personnel, and Raman didn’t want to go back to India. Really, he didn’t want to go back to that pit of fire at all.
But Raman’s current situation does not allow him to be too picky. This pharmaceutical company is in Bangalore. The classmate who wrote the letter said that although the company has just been established, it has gathered many talents who have returned from the United States. Everyone is very motivated and hopes to
Show off your skills in generic drugs.
The company is in need of a manager who is well-informed, energetic, knowledgeable, perseverant, has good communication skills and has a high moral character. After learning about Raman’s study and work experience, the company’s partners all agreed that
This position is best suited to him.
What impressed Raman the most was the annual salary of US$50,000. This amount of money was not only higher than his income in the United States, but was definitely considered an upper-class income in India. It was very, very, very exciting!
Seeing this, Raman couldn't help but sit up straight, and his originally groggy mind became excited. If this thing were true, it would change his life, even if he returned to India. Seeing the phone number at the end of the letter, he immediately
I took out my cell phone and wanted to call him to confirm this.
However, there is one more letter.
Before dialing, Raman hesitated and decided to read the other letter before talking about it. This second letter was written more simply. What was special was that it was not typed but handwritten, and the handwriting was very neat.
The letter began with 'Dear Mr. Raman', and the content was that the writer wanted to meet him and recommend a job to him. However, he did not mention the nature of the job, work address, salary or remuneration.
A confused letter. You must have lied to me. Who wrote it?
Raman looked at the signature, which looked familiar.
Strange... who is this Professor Kelvin?
Raman read the full name of the letter writer, and a well-known figure in American pharmaceuticals and medicine came to mind.
impossible?
Academician of the National Academy of Sciences, world leader in the field of biopharmaceuticals, Nobel Prize winner, national treasure-level scholar...
Just thinking about Professor Kelvin's series of terrifying titles, Laman felt that he must be reading fantasy. Such a powerful person wrote to him personally and recommended jobs. This was a joke.
Raman didn't believe it from the bottom of his heart. He turned the thin letter paper over and over again, trying to find out more doubts. Compared with the invitation letter from his classmate, this letter from Professor Kelvin brought him greater interest.
Psychological fluctuations.
It was impossible for such a famous big shot to be joking, so someone must be making fun of him. Raman suddenly felt very angry. As an Indian, a poor guy who climbed up from the bottom of a lower caste, his life was already full of troubles, but someone actually
Playing such a nasty joke on him.
Raman wanted to scold someone, or teach the guy who made such a prank a lesson. He saw that the phone number was also left on the letter, and he dialed it immediately regardless of the fact that it was already late at night.
The call was quickly connected, and a female voice on the other side said: "Hello, this is Professor Kelvin's laboratory at Columbia University Medical Center. Who are you calling?"
A string of lofty laboratory names shocked the angry Raman. He immediately shrank a little, and the anger in his heart disappeared. He hesitated for a long time and said: "Hello, it's so late and you still have people.
at work?"
"Hahaha..., yes! The laboratory has been very busy recently." The female voice who answered the phone smiled and asked, "Who are you?"
"My..., my name is Raman." Raman regretted making the call so rashly. He couldn't even explain why he made the call.
But the woman on the other end of the phone didn't respond to this. She seemed to have reported Raman's full name after searching on the computer, and continued: "You are here to make an appointment with Professor Kelvin, right? The day after tomorrow at two o'clock in the afternoon
,Are you free?"
"Yes..., yes." Raman was a little confused. What happened when we made an appointment to meet? Could it be that it was really a letter written by Professor Kelvin? "
"That's settled, do you have any other questions?" the female voice on the line asked again.
"No..., no more. Thank you! Oh..., no! Wait, I want to ask, is it really Professor Kelvin who wants to see me? I am just a very ordinary person, I want to say this is not a joke?"
"Oh, I don't know the specific situation, but we are really hiring here recently. Let me see, you are competing for a... laboratory director position with an annual salary of half a million dollars. I don't think Professor Kelvin
Are you interested in sending invitations to meet randomly?"
With a bang, Raman's cell phone dropped. He looked at the wall of his restaurant with unfocused eyes, and one word echoed repeatedly in his mind - five hundred thousand.