The first time Shen Nanxing truly became aware of the difference between contract workers and permanent staff was in the hospital's personnel system.
That day, the nursing department required everyone to update their personal information, adding their educational background, professional title, family circumstances, and contract type. Xiao Zhou did not know how to operate the system, so she brought her computer to Shen Nanxing.
“Teacher Shen, which one should I choose here? Am I dispatch employment or contract-based employment?”
Shen Nanxing took a look for her. “You have a hospital-hired contract under contract-based employment. Choose this one.”
“What about you?”
Shen Nanxing’s mouse stopped.
On her own page, the contract type column clearly read: hospital-hired contract under contract-based employment.
Twelve years.
For twelve whole years, she had spent countless days and nights at this hospital. She knew every corridor in the Emergency Department, was familiar with the location of every piece of equipment, knew which doctor issued medical instructions quickly, which family members were prone to panic, and which corners had poor signal. She had accompanied patients during resuscitations, witnessed family members sobbing in grief, and even served a cup of hot water to strangers in the early hours of holidays.
Yet in the system, she was still merely contract-based employment.
“Teacher Shen?” Seeing that she had not moved, Xiao Zhou called softly.
Shen Nanxing came back to herself and returned the computer to her. “Just fill it out and submit it when you’re done.”
Xiao Zhou left with the computer. Sitting in front of the nurses’ Station, Shen Nanxing suddenly remembered something the human resources officer had said many years ago when she first joined the hospital.
“Sign the contract first. We’ll see if there’s an opportunity for permanent staff establishment later.”
Back then, she had been young and felt that a top-tier hospital was stable enough. It did not matter if permanent staff establishment was a little beyond her reach. As long as she was willing to work hard, an opportunity would eventually come. Later came marriage, giving birth, returning to work, a second child, and night shift. She had been so busy that she had no time to ask when this opportunity would actually arrive.
The opportunity never came.
Her age did.
In the afternoon, Sister Li came to the nurses’ Station to get something and casually handed her a form. “Have you finished filling yours out too?”
“I have.”
Sister Li glanced at her. “That contract type column is glaring, isn’t it?”
Shen Nanxing smiled bitterly. “You too?”
“I was a few years ahead of you.” Sister Li slid the form into a folder. “When we’re working, everyone is a nurse. But when it comes to counting people, it’s different.”
Shen Nanxing said nothing.
Sister Li lowered her voice. “Those few with permanent staff establishment have been feeling more secure lately. People like us had better avoid drawing attention.”
“What did you hear?”
“Nothing certain.” Sister Li said, “But the nursing department wants every department to report its personnel structure. Age, contracts, and night shift situations are all required. You know your own situation.”
Shen Nanxing naturally knew her own situation.
She was thirty-seven years old, with two children. She could still work night shift, but her health was no longer what it had been. She was skilled at her work, but her salary was also higher than a newcomer’s. She had no permanent staff establishment, no connections, and no solid leverage that would make a leader have to keep her.
In the afternoon, she went to deliver laboratory specimens and passed through the surgical department ward. In the corridor, Gu Cheng'an was looking at scans with the director. The director patted him on the shoulder, his tone carrying unmistakable regard.
“Little Gu, organize this case. You’ll present it at the lecture next week.”
Gu Cheng'an nodded. “All right, director.”
At that moment, Shen Nanxing stood on the other side of the corridor and suddenly felt that although they were clearly in the same hospital, it was as if they stood within two entirely different systems.
Gu Cheng'an was being cultivated, noticed, and pushed forward.
While she was being appraised, calculated, and reminded not to make mistakes.
After returning home that evening, she told Gu Cheng'an about it.
Gu Cheng'an was reading a paper. After listening, he said, “contract-based employment doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll remove you. Your department is short-staffed, and besides, you have experience.”
Shen Nanxing asked, “What if they really do?”
Gu Cheng'an looked up. “Don’t always assume the worst.”
“I’m not assuming the worst. I’m trying to prepare in advance.”
He set down the tablet and sighed. “Nanxing, I’m under a lot of pressure getting my associate senior professional title too. You should stabilize things on your end first. Don’t scare yourself. The hospital talks about this kind of reform every year, but it may not actually affect you.”
Shen Nanxing looked at him and suddenly said, “But what if it does affect me?”
Gu Cheng'an was silent for a while. “We’ll talk about it when the time comes.”
We’ll talk about it when the time comes.
The answer was light, yet it chilled Shen Nanxing’s heart.
This was not the first time she had realized that whenever Gu Cheng'an dealt with her problems, he always tended to put them off. As if refusing to face something for the moment meant it would not happen. But the contract type in the hospital system was already laid out in black and white. It would not automatically become permanent staff establishment simply because they did not discuss it.
At night, Shen Nanxing lay in bed and heard Gu Cheng'an turning the pages of his paper.
She closed her eyes, yet those four words kept surfacing in her mind: hospital-hired contract.
That was the status behind twelve years of hard work.
Light as paper.
And thin as paper.