After I retired, I pretended to be poor and experienced life, but was misunderstood by the heroine as a down-and-out young man who fed me every day. Until her company encountered a crisis worth hundreds of billions. When I was about to take action, she calmly took out her checkbook and said, "Don't be afraid, I'll feed you." I broke the ham into small pieces and fed them piece by piece. The sun shines through the gaps in the sycamore leaves, casting mottled light and shadow on the ground. There was the sound of square dancing music in the distance, old men were playing chess, and several children were chasing and playing.
I have been living like this for half a year.
To be honest, life after retirement is much more comfortable than I imagined. No need to hold meetings, socialize, read reports, or intrigue. Every day I wake up naturally, go downstairs to eat a bowl of noodles, walk to this park to feed the cats, and then buy groceries on the way. No one knew who I was, no one looked at me with awe or fawning or calculation. In their eyes, I was just an extremely ordinary poor boy.
