On my last day, I tidied up my workstation.

I wiped the leaves of the pothos I had nurtured for three years with a damp cloth, then carried the cardboard box to the front desk.
The HR person who had been here less than half a year stopped me, saying, "Wait a minute, there's one item on the resignation checklist you haven't checked— the company's laptop charger hasn't been returned."
I stood at the front desk, put down the box, flipped through it, but couldn't find it.
She said, "You can't sign off without it, you have to compensate."
I asked, "Okay, how much?"
She said, "Original one costs 120 yuan."
I took out my phone to scan the QR code.
Next to me, Xiao Chen from the tech department suddenly poked his head out from his workstation, saying, "Wait, I’ll help you find it."
He ran into the storage room, and after a while, came out carrying a box of chargers.
They were all returned by colleagues who had left over the past three years in our department, each with a name and date label.
I flipped to mine.
The label had my name on it, and the date was the day I started working three years ago.
I handed it to HR.
She looked at it and said, "This can't prove it's yours."
Xiao Chen smiled nearby and said, "I'll help you prove it."
He opened his laptop and pulled up a stock receipt from three years ago.
It listed the procurement model and parts list for that batch of laptops, with checkmarks next to each item.
Next to the charger column, there was a handwritten note: "Labeled, do not distribute repeatedly."
HR didn't say anything else.
I carried the box to the elevator entrance, looked back at Xiao Chen, who was still typing code at his desk, not looking up.
The box of chargers was neatly stacked on the innermost shelf of the storage room.
Next to it, there was a small note he had just added: "All department resignation chargers have been archived, please do not request again."
The last line of the note had no signature, only a small checkmark.