The rusty iron door made a harsh scraping sound. Chen Fan kicked open the door of his old house. Dust hit his face, choking him and making him cough several times. The yard was overgrown with weeds, and the spider webs in the corners were formed layer after layer, like a silk hole. Throwing the cheap suitcase with "Excellent Employees of xx Factory" printed on it on the ground, Chen Fan sat down on the dusty threshold. "This kick kicked away twenty-five years of poverty." He murmured mockingly, took out the last crushed red pagoda stick from his pocket, lit it, and took a deep breath. Got laid off. The reason is "to deliver talents to society." Send shit. Chen Fan blew out a smoke ring and looked at the dilapidated ancestral home. Before his grandfather left, he left this old house to him, saying it was the root of the Chen family. Now it seems that this root is almost rotten.
