In 1962, when he was working on the riveting project of the rolling mill to govern the country, he bought a piece of pork and entered the hospital and was targeted by Yan Bugui. Mrs. Jia Zhang lay on the crack of the door and cursed me to choke to death so that I could occupy the room. Qin Huairu lowered her head and counted the rice vats and sighed. I carried the meat into the kitchen, and the system dinged: The whole hospital was in a panic, and the reward was doubled. The oil pan was sizzling, and I stared at the courtyard wall: No one can sleep peacefully tonight.
