Chapter 743: Two Letters

In the middle of the night, Raman drove home with his exhausted body. After entering the door, he saw that the light was 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." Laman 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 something to eat in the fridge, just warm it up in the microwave. Karin was bullied again at school, and she came home crying today..." The old mother babbled a lot, adding He said, "I have two letters today, and I put them on the dining room table."

After finally letting his mother go to rest, Laman took out a pizza from the refrigerator and put it in the microwave before he had time to read the letter on the table.

Now people communicate by mail or phone, by mail... Maybe it's some kind of bill, Raman thought.

Raman is an Indian with a particularly long name, and he was born in a low caste Sudra, so he is slightly better than a pariah. He ran from India to the United States entirely by his own hard work and luck, and did everything possible to send his old mother and a daughter to India and take him to him.

But this is already the limit of Raman's ability. Being able to jump out of the big fire pit in India, Raman is already very grateful for the protection of the gods, but he has also had a hard time in the United States.

When Raman was admitted to Caltech to major in computer science and received a full scholarship, not to mention the village where he lived at the time, even the entire country was a sensation.

However, after he graduated, he couldn't find a job because of his mediocre grades. In order to continue to mix visas, he went to study a master's degree in biopharmaceuticals, which is said to be a popular major. But after graduating with a master's degree, no pharmaceutical factory hired him, an ordinary graduate student with no reputation and no achievements.

Forced and helpless, Raman went to read a doctorate in business administration, hoping to develop into the business world. Unfortunately, he ended up working as a sales assistant in a small trading company, responsible for importing some toys from China to the United States for sale.

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 impossible to look directly at him, but he knows that his life is actually very ordinary, and the glory of his early years has long since left him.

The company's situation is very bad recently, and Raman is worried that he may not be able to get a work visa for next year. The trouble didn't stop there. He sent his daughter to India but couldn't send her to an expensive private school. He could only let her be bullied by other children in the public school in the community every day.

His mother had obtained the visa on the grounds of medical treatment, but now the visa had expired long ago, and Raman was very worried that someone from the Immigration Bureau would suddenly appear at his home that day.

There are many difficulties, and Raman is very troubled by this, and even a little desperate. He couldn't find a way to get out of the predicament, so he could only watch himself and his family get into all kinds of troubles and it was difficult to get out.

"Strange, this is not a bill." Raman first opened a letter from India, which was written by his former classmate. The content of the letter was very simple, a very formal invitation to him to return to India 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, needed technology but no technology, needed personnel but no personnel, and Rahman did not want to go back to India. Really, he didn't want to go back to that fire pit 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 have a go at generic drugs.

The company is short of a well-informed, energetic, knowledgeable, resolute, and has good communication skills and a high-minded managerial staff. After learning about Raman's study and working experience, the partners of the company agreed that he is the most suitable for this position.

What moved Raman the most was the annual salary of US$50,000, which was not only higher than his income in the United States, but also

And in India, it is definitely counted as the income of the upper class, which is very very very tempting!

Seeing this, Raman couldn't help sitting up straight, his drowsy mind became excited. If this is true, it can change his life, even if he goes back to India. Seeing the phone number at the end of the letter, he immediately took out his phone and wanted to call to confirm it.

However, there is one more letter.

Before dialing the number, Raman hesitated and decided to read the other letter as well. The second letter was written more simply, and what was special was that it was not printed but handwritten, and the handwriting was very neat.

The beginning of the letter read "Dear Mr. Laman", and the content was that the writer wanted to meet him and recommend a job to him. But there is no mention of the nature of work, work address, salary and so on.

A muddle-headed letter, you must have lied to me, who wrote it?

Raman looked at the inscription, a little 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 of the United States, a leader in the world's biopharmaceutical field, a Nobel Prize winner, a national treasure-level scholar,...  

Just thinking about Professor Kelvin's series of scary titles, Laman felt that he must be reading the Arabian Nights. This kind of big guy writes himself a letter and recommends a job. This is a joke.

Laman didn't believe it from the bottom of his heart. He looked and looked at the thin letter paper over and over again, trying to find out more doubts. Compared with the invitation letters from classmates, this letter from Professor Kelvin brought him greater psychological fluctuations.

It is impossible for such a famous and important figure to make a joke, so someone must be making fun of him, and Laman suddenly felt very angry. As an Indian, a wretch who had risen from the bottom of the lower caste, he had enough troubles in his life, that he should be given such nasty jokes.

Laman really wanted to curse someone, or to teach the guy who played such pranks a lesson. He saw that there was also a phone number on the letter paper, and he dialed it immediately regardless of the fact that it was late at night.

The phone was connected quickly, and a female voice on the opposite side said, "Hi, this is Professor Kelvin's laboratory at Columbia University Medical Center. Who are you looking for?"

A series of high-profile laboratory names shocked the angry Laman, and he shrank immediately, the anger in his heart disappeared, and he hesitated for a long time before saying: "Hi, it's so late. at work?"

"Hahaha..., yes! The laboratory is very busy recently." The female voice who answered the phone smiled and asked, "Who are you?"

"I..., my name is Laman." Laman regretted that he made such a reckless call, and he couldn't even explain why he made this call.

But the woman on the other end of the phone didn't respond to this. She seemed to report Raman's full name after a search on the computer, and continued: "Are you here to make an appointment with Professor Kelvin? The day after tomorrow at two o'clock in the afternoon , are you free?"

"Yes... yes, yes." Laman was a little puzzled. Make an appointment to meet, what's going on? Could it be that the letter was really written by Professor Kelvin? "

"Then it's settled. Do you have any other questions?" The female voice at the connection asked again.

"No..., no more. Thank you! Oh..., no! Wait a minute, I want to ask is it really Professor Kelvin who wants to see me? I'm just a very ordinary person, I want to say this is not a joke?"

"Oh, I'm not sure about the specifics, but we've been recruiting recently. Let me see, you're competing for a... $500,000 annual salary as a laboratory supervisor. I don't think Professor Kelvin Will randomly send invitations to meet, are you interested in this?"

With a click, Raman's cell phone fell. He looked at the wall of his restaurant out of focus, and a word echoed repeatedly in his mind-500,000.