Lin Zifeng took out a cigarette and handed one to him.
"Here, brother, we low-level security guards earn just over three thousand a month in dead wages. When we encounter such people, we better not offend anyone. After all, their positions are higher than ours. To put it bluntly, if they say just one word, the company could very well fire us immediately. So, let's just punch the card for him first."
Lin Zifeng is considered half an insider now, after all, everyone is working as a security guard; Jia Zhenjing might be sleazy, but he isn't heartless. Fearing that Fan Jian might come back and cause trouble, he simply chose to punch in the card and save the hassle. It's better to avoid unnecessary trouble.
"No way! Why should we punch his card? Can't he use his own hands and feet?" Lin Zifeng's expression turned slightly cold.
