By the afternoon, Ding Shuqing was summoned by the chief to attend a meeting in the city, leaving the rest to write their reflections under Beanpole's guidance. Among them, Wang Zhiyuan seemed to struggle the most.
Lin Moran wrote at an impressive speed, finishing almost simultaneously with Beanpole.
Beanpole looked at him with admiration. Before Lin Moran's arrival, most of the reports for the team were completed by him. Finding such a promising talent, he naturally wanted to nurture him. Just as he was about to offer some words of encouragement, Lin Moran sidled over to Wang Zhiyuan.
"Master," Lin Moran asked with a grin, "How's the writing going?"
Headache!
Wang Zhiyuan looked at the material provided by Beanpole, along with the key phrases highlighted in red, with a face that screamed misery.
Lin Moran glanced at the almost blank paper with just two scribbled lines and coughed, "Do you need help?"
Before he could finish, the paper was already handed to him.