The Trouble-Shooting Elite: from Intern to Director

A dazzling white light flashed, and Hu Qiang felt a sharp pain in his head, as if someone had hit him hard with a hammer. He subconsciously raised his hand to rub his temples, but found that something was wrong with the touch - why was this hand so rough? When he opened his eyes, he saw a small rental house. The mottled wallpaper was covered with mildew, and there was an old alarm clock on the bedside table, which read seven o'clock in the morning. There was a smell of instant noodles in the air, which made him frown. Bite! It is detected that the host has woken up and the system is being activated... This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.