>When I dressed as an orphan of a martyr, the street office was forcing me to go to the countryside.
>"Your parents are dead, you must answer the call to build the countryside!"
>I lowered my head to wipe my tears, then turned around and took out my mother's research institute work permit.
>——According to the policy, the children of martyrs can take over their posts.
>I moved into the institute's courtyard that day and used the steak I had stored in the space to fry pot stickers.
>Neighbors scratched the cracks in their doors and swallowed: "The capitalists are acting like this!"
>Until the director slapped the table: "The information her parents protected with their lives is enough to support ten of her!"
