Wang Mingzheng was muttering to himself when a fifteen or sixteen-year-old walked towards him. He carried a backpack and had a pair of endearing dimples on his face, radiating youthful energy yet carrying an air of detachment.,This Wang Ming doesn't take things, of course because he knew from a young age that it's easy to get things but hard to return them in this world.,At this time, Wang Ming's handful of walnuts had nothing but their shells. Even a bad walnut shouldn't be completely empty.。