Cheng Wu, he's one of us!
Could it be true, does talent really skip a generation?
"Responsibility, responsibility..."
Half an hour has passed.
Ding Yishan flipped through the twenty or so record sheets with a loud rustling sound, making the edges of the paper frayed from his grip.
The regional responsibility system proposed by Cheng Ye was like a seed, taking root and budding in his mind, yet something was missing, making the entire plan like a house without a foundation, unable to be fully realized.
Something is lacking, something crucial!
He stood up irritably and paced back and forth in the office.
The thudding sound of his shoes on the floor seemed like a thorn, making him increasingly restless, so he bent down and took off his shoes and socks, tossing them into the corner, and stepped barefoot onto the cold floor.
The old wall clock ticked away, each tick like a knock on his nerves.
