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.,Of course, this was just a small song Wang Ming sang on his way home from work. Wang Ming didn't take it seriously and continued walking through the still-hot evening sun towards a famous slum in Xi District of City A.,Wang Ming didn't seem like someone who liked to dwell on things. If he couldn't figure something out, he simply let it go, muttering to himself in his heart.。