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.,At this time, Wang Ming's handful of walnuts had nothing but their shells. Even a bad walnut shouldn't be completely empty.,Having said that, he tossed the walnut shells in his hand aside, quickly put on his clothes, and went out.。