NT$50,000 in Taipei: The Cruelest Scam Is Called “Promotion and Raise”
Many people think a salary is the starting point of life. But they don’t realize it’s a trap that takes your下半辈子 (latter half of life) to repay.
The story starts on the day Xiao Chen received his first paycheck of NT$50,000.
It was a rainy Friday evening in Taipei. Xiao Chen nearly ran into the MRT station. He didn’t care about the cold stone steps. In his hand he clutched a thin pay slip just received from HR. He squeezed from Xinyi onto the South Line all the way back to his small rental apartment in Banqiao with his girlfriend Xiao Ya.
The moment he opened the door, Xiao Ya was cooking in the kitchen. Xiao Chen said nothing, just placed the slip gently but ceremonially in the center of the dining table, like setting down a trophy.
Xiao Ya wiped her hands, came over, saw the figure starting with five on the pay slip, paused for two seconds, then her eyes lit up: “You did it!” She almost jumped up and hugged him.
In that tiny space, the air was filled with the aroma of instant noodles and something stronger — hope.
NT$50,000. For a 28-year-old without background, who’d moved from Yunlin to Taipei three years ago, this number was bought with countless overtime nights, countless meeting reports, and nearly subservient smiles to clients. He finally didn’t have to be that stammering young man whose salary got asked about at reunions.
He excitedly told Xiao Ya: "See, we did it. Another two or three years of saving up, we can — " he paused, as if afraid saying it too loudly would pop the dream — “we can buy ourselves a little house in Tucheng or Shulin.”
Xiao Ya’s eyes were full of stars. She nodded hard.
That night they didn’t eat. They ordered the most expensive delivery pizza with beer. For the first time, they opened 591 (Taiwan’s real estate site) not just to look, but to seriously筛选 (filter) listings under NT$3 million down payment. They chatted about the future home’s decoration style — industrial or MUJI minimalism. Whether to grow basil on the balcony. Whether to adopt a corgi named “Qianjin.” They chatted until 3 a.m., until the rain outside stopped.
Xiao Chen lay in bed, the ceiling light a bit harsh. He looked at Xiao Ya sleeping beside him, his heart full of an unprecedented sense of solidity. He felt he was on a correct track, moving at high speed.
But Xiao Chen had no idea that what made him happy wasn’t the money itself increasing — it was that he finally looked like a successful person in others’ eyes. And that perception was the most expensive mistake of his life.
Month Four: Account Balance NT$33,000
Life after the first paycheck did have some small but pleasant changes. Month one, Xiao Chen took Xiao Ya to that steakhouse they’d walked past countless times but always balked at the menu price. His card swipe at checkout was the smoothest ever. Month two, he finally retired the iPhone 8 with the cracked screen and half-day battery, upgrading to the newest model. Month three, he started choosing NT$550+ business lunches instead of the eternal pork rib bento. Life seemed to really be upgrading.
But by month four, the eve of payday, he checked his online banking balance — and the number made him frown: NT$33,000.
How? He thought he’d have at least NT$55,000 left.
He couldn’t sleep. At 1 a.m. he opened his budgeting app and went through every transaction of the past month like a detective:
Fixed expenses — Banqiao apartment rent + management fee NT4,500; student loan NT2,900/month; phone, internet, utilities NT1,300/month. Just these already took NT$11,400.
Variable expenses — MRT plus occasional taxi NT4,400; household items NT650; wedding red envelopes NT1,000.
He stared at the auto-totaling number on screen, heart going cold. The 200+ hours of work each month, the sacrifice of all personal hobby time, the continually eroding health — all换来 (exchanged for) less than NT$10,000 in所谓 (so-called) disposable income.
He suddenly felt that top steak didn’t taste so great. The smoothness of the new phone became ironic.
This is the dilemma most Taiwanese office workers have experienced. We think NT60K is a threshold, then NT70K is another, we拼命 (desperately) try to cross them, thinking the other side is a vast sky. But reality is — your cost of living, your social circle, your欲望升级 (desire escalation) speed forever outpaces your salary growth by several times.
The Fatal Conclusion: “I Don’t Earn Enough”
Xiao Chen’s anxiety flooded in like a tide. Where was the problem? He tossed and turned, finally arriving at a conclusion: the problem must be I’m not earning enough. If I could make NT$70K a month, everything would be solved.
Sounds intuitive, right? Work hard, get promoted, become a manager — isn’t that the only road to success our parents, teachers, and society drilled into us?
So Xiao Chen set his next goal: promotion to deputy manager within two years, NT$70K monthly salary. He wrote this goal on a sticky note,贴在 (stuck to) the side of his computer screen.
But he didn’t realize he was walking down what looked like an uphill path but was actually a downhill path toward a giant trap. He thought he was chasing a dream, but he didn’t realize he was chasing someone else’s dream for him.
The Buddy Mocked for “Fooling Around”
Just as Xiao Chen was turning himself into the office’s拼命三郎 (work machine) for the next NT45K.
At one reunion, everyone chatted about work, relationships, who’d recently seen nice houses. Xiao Chen was the center of attention that day, passionately sharing details of a big project he was leading, from pitch to execution. He talked animatedly, enjoying the羡慕 (admiring) looks from classmates.
Lao Wang sat quietly in the corner, not saying much.
Near the end of the gathering, Lao Wang walked over, patted Xiao Chen on the shoulder and asked: “What do you do after work and on holidays?”
Xiao Chen casually replied: “After work I eat, watch Netflix, scroll my phone, then get ready for bed. Sometimes I have to reply to the boss’s LINE messages. On holidays, if I don’t have overtime I’m lucky. I just want to catch up on sleep. I’m dead tired. What else would I do?”
Lao Wang nodded: “I’m recently learning video editing, and I have a small U.S. stock account where I put in NT$18K every month to buy ETFs.”
Xiao Chen paused, jokingly: “What are you doing that for? You want to be a YouTuber? Let me劝 (advise) you…”
Lao Wang smiled, but his expression was serious: “I did the math. No matter how much I节约 (save), the most I can put aside is about NT$75K. At that speed, saving for a Taipei down payment might take until I’m 50. But if I take the two hours I spend each evening watching shows and invest in learning a skill that might help me make money in the future, or studying a tool that lets money work for me — wouldn’t the result be a little different?”
Xiao Chen felt it was a bit naive at the time. He thought Lao Wang was going off-track, doing things un-serious. Using that time for such intangible stuff was不如 (worse than) focusing all energy on work, letting the boss see your value, getting promoted, getting a raise — that was the most stable, most solid path.
He put his arm around Lao Wang’s shoulder, with a self-assured elder-brother tone: “Brother, listen to me. Focus on your core job and make it solid. The company’s big projects have bonuses worth tens of thousands. What’s your small stuff going to make? Time will tell.”
That sentence, Xiao Chen said lightly, sincerely. He truly believed he was giving his friend the best advice. He had no idea that this very moment, this seemingly insignificant choice, would send the two friends’ lives toward two completely irreversible parallel universes over the next five years.
Let’s dissect the human nature and利益 (interests) behind these two choices.
Xiao Chen chose certainty — promotion and raise. This is a visible, tangible path. The monthly salary is the source of his安全感 (sense of security). The benefits of this path are in the hands of the company and boss. What he has to do is trade his own time and服从 (obedience) for this stability.
Lao Wang chose possibility — building side hustles, learning, investing. This path was full of uncertainty. In the short term, there was zero visible return — possibly losses, possibly failure. The benefits of this path are in the hands of the market and himself. What he had to do was trade his own time and cognition for an asset that belonged to no one else.
If you were Xiao Chen, what would you choose?
I believe 90% of people would make the same choice as Xiao Chen — because fear of the unknown and pursuit of stability is human nature hard-coded into our DNA.
But we always ignore the most important thing: that seemingly safest choice actually has the most expensive hidden cost. That choice seemed微不足道 (trivial) at the moment, but five years later, compounded by time, it produces terrifying results.
Five Years Later: Deputy Manager, Mortgage, and a Photo from Iceland
Five years flew by.
Xiao Chen, 33, had succeeded — at least in the eyes of all relatives and friends. He got his wish: promotion to department deputy manager. Monthly salary NT$75K — not top-tier for Taipei, but enough for a hint of confidence when introducing himself.
He and Xiao Ya finally bought a small two-bedroom apartment, only 18 ping (60 sqm) indoors, in a New Taipei City new town development requiring over an hour commute each way. The down payment ate all their savings over seven years, and Xiao Chen had to swallow his pride and borrow NT$1.8 million from his parents back in Yunlin.
When he signed the purchase contract and that thick 30-year mortgage contract, the real estate agent smiled: “Congratulations, life leveled up!” Xiao Chen looked at Xiao Ya, eyes red-rimmed, feeling he could finally shoulder responsibility like a real man. He owned his own house, a real home with his name on it.
But the joy was soon washed away by reality.
Following came a 360-month, NT$115K/month mortgage payment. His salary came into his account from the left, and within five seconds, the right hand immediately paid the bank, credit card bills, management fees, and all kinds of household expenses.
- He was more afraid than ever to change jobs, because a gap in his resume meant potential mortgage违约 (default).
- He was more afraid than ever to offend the boss, because he couldn’t afford the risk of middle-aged unemployment.
- He was even more afraid than ever to get sick, because every请假 (day off) might affect his performance review.
That tiny apartment became both his achievement medal and a gorgeous cage he built with his own hands. He used to think he’d bought an asset. Now he slowly understood — before paying off the nearly NT$33 million in principal and interest, this thing was actually called debt. A debt that punctually pulled money from his pocket every month.
Just when he thought life was probably just like this — work hard, pay the mortgage, until retirement at 65 — he opened his phone and saw Lao Wang’s latest update.
It wasn’t a food photo. It wasn’t an office加班 (overtime) shot. It was a selfie in front of an entire sky of northern lights in Iceland.
Xiao Chen met the recently returned Lao Wang for dinner. Five years hadn’t changed Lao Wang’s appearance much, but his entire vibe was松弛 (relaxed). It was the松弛 of not worrying about tomorrow’s meetings or KPIs.
They sat down. Xiao Chen’s opening line was still the familiar set: “Are you still at that company? What position now? How’s the salary?”
Lao Wang shook his head with a smile: “I left that company two years ago.”
Xiao Chen’s heart leaped. His mind immediately went to layoff, company collapse — he was about to say something comforting when Lao Wang continued: “Salary — I don’t have that concept anymore.”
Amid Xiao Chen’s stunned gaze, Lao Wang opened his tablet, showing a dashboard-like interface:
"My current income comes mainly from — " he pointed at the pie chart.
"One: the YouTube channel I started running five years ago, specifically for beginner financial education. Now monthly ad revenue and sponsored content contributes about 40% of total income.
"Two: the U.S. stock ETFs I started investing in monthly back then, mainly high-dividend ones like SCHD. After years of dividend reinvestment, this contributes about 20% now.
"Three: using the editing skills I learned back then to stably do post-production for two podcasters. This side income is about 30%.
“The final 10% is miscellaneous passive income like affiliate marketing.”
Lao Wang turned the tablet toward Xiao Chen: “Add up these four lines, average NT$300K-360K per month. Not as stable as a salary, with highs and lows. But the good thing is my work time and location are completely free. Most importantly — even if I want to slack off this month and go to Iceland for two weeks, this赚钱 (money-making) system won’t stop.”
In that instant Xiao Chen’s mind went blank. He looked at Lao Wang, then back at himself.
His monthly salary was NT$75K. Stable. He had a house in the new town. A parking spot on the third basement level. Business cards declaring him deputy manager. He had everything that society defined as the success package for a 30-something man.
But he suddenly realized the only thing he didn’t have was called “choice.”
If he wanted to go to Iceland today, he’d have to first count remaining annual leave, then小心翼翼 (cautiously) request time off from the boss. If his company decided to downsize his department next year, his mortgage would instantly become the last straw that crushed his entire family.
He looked at his friend whom he’d advised five years ago not to waste time, and finally, painfully, understood Buffett’s quote he’d once dismissed as motivational poster fluff:
“If you don’t find a way to make money while you sleep, you will work until you die.”
Two Tracks, Five Years of Difference
The story pauses here. Let’s analyze this five-year life experiment from a colder angle.
Interests: Who Actually Made Money in This Whole System?
- Was it the company boss who paid Xiao Chen and used his five golden years? Yes.
- Was it the developer who sold him a house at a high price and saddled him with a 30-year mortgage? Yes.
- Was it the bank that lent him money and stably earned millions in interest over 30 years? Even more so.
They all made money. Who bore the biggest risk in the entire system? Xiao Chen. He used his most precious time over the next 30 years, predictable health erosion, and complete loss of freedom to支撑 (sustain) the看似 (seemingly) perfect success life game others built for him.
The Real Price
What did Xiao Chen really lose? Not money. He lost time.
More precisely, the golden five years between 28 and 33 — when his learning ability was strongest, error cost lowest, and energy most abundant for building a passive income system through late nights.
He poured those precious five years into trading time for a higher salary. Lao Wang invested those same five years into trading time for assets that generate cash flow.
One traded time for money. One traded time for assets. Five years later, one was completely hijacked by time. The other successfully bought his freedom back from time.
This is the most fundamental, most irreversible difference between them.
What Are We Working So Hard For?
This story isn’t meant to tell you working is bad, or to make you impulsively submit your resignation tomorrow. Stable work is very important in the early stages of life — it provides survival basics and the possibility of accumulating a first pot of capital.
What I want to invite you to do, through Xiao Chen’s story, is to rethink a question you may never have seriously considered: what exactly are we working so hard for?
- For a salary that looks more respectable in others’ eyes?
- For a bigger house you can show off on Instagram?
- For the vanity of a “deputy manager” title from the company?
- Or for the day you have true choice — the freedom to choose whether to work today, where to work (Taipei, Tainan, or the seaside in Taitung), and with whom?
Monthly salary of NT100K is never a trap. The real trap is that deeply rooted天真 (naive) belief in our hearts that as long as salary keeps rising, one day I’ll be free. This belief has led countless善良 (kind-hearted), hardworking, responsible young people like Xiao Chen to finally win the salary but lose their entire lives.
Xiao Chen’s story plays out around us every day in different versions. Maybe it’s a colleague, maybe a friend, maybe even you reading this screen right now.
I want to ask everyone: if you could turn back time, you would be that 28-year-old Xiao Chen just receiving his first paycheck. Faced with society’s craze for buying a house, your own inner渴望 (longing) and不安 (unease) about the future — would you make the same choices as him? Or do you believe a better, smarter path existed given the circumstances back then?
Leave your answer in the comments below.
This article reflects on personal finance concepts and career philosophy, including references to ETFs and passive income. It is intended for educational discussion only and does not constitute investment advice. Every investment vehicle carries risk; please make independent decisions based on your own risk tolerance.
Comments