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.,Wang Ming must have his reasons for saying that. This landlord not only has dozens of houses like the one Wang Ming envies, but also a fast-food restaurant.,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.。