Wang Mingzheng was muttering to himself when a fifteen or sixteen-year-old walked towards him. He carried a backpack and had a pair of endearing dimples on his face, radiating youthful energy yet carrying an air of detachment.,After a quick shower, Wang Ming picked up a relatively clean shirt from the ground and prepared to leave.,At this time, Wang Ming's handful of walnuts had nothing but their shells. Even a bad walnut shouldn't be completely empty.。