In the eyes of later generations, the agreement that Chang Jinzhong signed with Lin Nianhe was truly a foolish move.
But at that time, almost everyone thought Lin Nianhe had suffered a great loss.
Rong Zhiguo, frowning, finished a cigarette. He reached out, pressed Lin Nianhe's head, and ruffled it: "It's okay, your master will provide for you."
Lin Nianhe: "...?"
Rong Zhiguo, holding a matchbox, fell silent for a moment before speaking again: "Stop gluing the matchboxes, focus on your studies... Constantly touching glue will only ruin your hands, and you're still young, it's not yet time for you to worry about life."
Lin Nianhe: "...?"
It seemed her master had misunderstood something.
Indeed, Rong Zhiguo had misunderstood, and not just that, a series of unpleasant memories were eroding him.
It was when he was fourteen, his eldest sister had gone through numerous hardships to finally send him to an old fitter's shop as an apprentice.