Life at Unibest

The table sits right beside the desks. No coach, no fixed partner. At half past twelve, whoever arrives first plays, and the loser steps aside — which means one lunch break puts you across the table from twenty-odd people, half of whom you normally only know as a name in a group chat.

The loop is the shot that shows the most craft on this table: whoever can lift the ball usually controls the pace as well. Most walls between departments are not conflict — they are unfamiliarity. A colleague you have nodded at in the corridor for three years will, after one game, ask how that project of yours turned out. A table needs no small talk.

Before setting off we took a group photo under the colourful arch on the greenway, a row of shared bikes parked along the boardwalk. We set off lined up by department; five minutes in, the formation was gone — the climbs opened gaps and the descents closed them again. The leaders were genuinely racing at first, then stopped at the first water point to wait. The slowest climber rode the final stretch boxed in by three riders, one ahead and two behind.

We never finished the standings, but the ride left a by-product: afterwards, colleagues who had spent a year raising tickets against each other in the system without ever speaking face to face started calling each other by name in the group chat. Department walls are at their thickest inside a process, and at their thinnest along a shoreline.

On the anniversary day we took a group photo in front of a model helicopter. The banner read "Self-improvement, Virtue, Unity, Excellence" — the company motto — and "2026 Unibest Anniversary Team Building". Some flashed peace signs, others spread their arms, and a few colleagues who rarely get in photos crouched in the front row. There were no products, no office, no slides in the frame — just people in purple and white team shirts, and a helicopter that would never take off.

The afternoon laser-tag game mixed everyone by colour into two teams. People who normally raise tickets against each other in the system and defend their own processes in meetings suddenly had to hide behind the same cover. The shots were fake, the aiming was real; nobody remembered who won, but everyone remembered the teammate who took a hit for them. When it ended both teams posed with their guns, two kneeling colleagues surrounded by a dozen barrels, laughing the loudest.

The team-building game in the woods turned into cards. A circle of people squatted on the ground, arguing over the rules of a few cards on the grass. No screens, no keyboards, just footsteps, disputes and bursts of laughter. It was hard to tell who was in business, who in R&D, who in regulatory — everyone squatting was the same height.

In the evening we lit candles and cut the cake, a few people wearing paper crowns. Warm light hit the fruit on the cake from one side. Nobody counted whether there were twenty-three candles — what mattered was that one year's effort and the next year's work were joined by the same cake.

From 2003 to 2026, Unibest has walked for twenty-three years. That road is not one person's coming-of-age, but a group walking side by side. Some have been with the company for many years, some have just joined; regardless of time, every bit of seriousness and every act of responsibility has added up to what we are today. The twenty-third birthday wish is simple: set work aside for a moment, go outside and feel the breeze, chat under the stars, and keep moving forward together.

At four on Monday afternoon, a strange troop assembled at Qinglang Square in Fumin Park: two dozen people in identical purple polos, looking from afar like a drifting patch of lavender. The park attendant took one look and asked whether we were running a promotion. No — we were here to run: the Unibest Fumin Park Run Carnival, the whole company, nobody missing.

Before the race, Allan led an eight-to-ten-minute warm-up — which later turned out to be more entertaining than the race itself. Lunges, one-legged balances, arms raised to the sky: a row of colleagues wobbling and holding each other up, like a martial-arts convention. Balance was the biggest winner of the warm-up; department walls were the biggest loser — when you start tipping over, the hand that catches you does not check which department you are from. It only sank in afterwards: the warm-up leader had come for the crown.

The rules were almost suspiciously simple: about 800 metres per lap, six laps for roughly 4.8 km (marketed as 5 km — a rounding of pure romance). Each lap, at the Qingyuan Pavilion stamping station, a colleague pressed a Unibest logo stamp onto your forearm or the back of your hand. Collect six, and you were a finisher. Do not underestimate that job: the stamp keeper was the most powerful person in the park. However fast you ran, you had to stop in front of them and politely present your arm. Finishers left with a row of logos down the forearm — a passport page full of stamps, worth more than any Monday badge.

The pacing notes were gentle too: keep a pace where you can hold a conversation, about 5:30–7:00 per kilometre, and no sprinting. For the first two laps everyone obeyed, chatting as they ran, like a large team-building stroll. Then things gradually got out of hand — Yung of the women's group pulled away first and never looked back. She had been a Harbin city champion back in primary school, and had said before the start with a grin: “Aren't you just forcing me to win?” After the race, the consensus was that she was merely stating facts. Allan of the men's group crossed the line soon after — the man who led the warm-up walked off with the crown too, in exactly the pose he uses when racing to a nine o'clock meeting. A fun run, promoted by two people into a championship. What if two runners cross the line together? The rulebook was ready: a 200-metre runoff on the spot. Rigour on par with a regulatory dossier.

The awards were handed out on the spot. The custom gold medals read “Unibest Fumin Park Run Carnival 5KM” and the company motto, paired with the Möbius-ring mark. Allan took the men's title, Yung the women's — one medal and a 200-yuan sports-gear voucher each. The medal handles the glory; the voucher handles a new pair of running shoes, so the champions can return next year and keep not sprinting.

Then came the lawn group photo: two dozen smiling faces under one big tree, peace signs everywhere. The first-aid kit — plasters, spray, ice packs — went home untouched; the best logistics is the logistics you never need. As people drifted off, someone asked, “When is the next one?” Everyone finished safely inside the 50-minute cut-off. Back at the office we returned to our departments; but for that one afternoon in Fumin Park, we were just runners.