Content preview:
The wall clock on the west wall ticks gently, and the hour hand is pointing to two in the morning. On the table in the hut, there is a young man with unkempt hair. Holding a steel ruler in his left hand and a thick black pen in his right hand, he is absorbed in drawing a sketch on a piece of propaganda paper. His head is buried very low and he writes very slowly. Every time he writes, he has to draw with a ruler for a long time, as if he was afraid that it would be finished carelessly.
Finally, he straightened up, breathed a long sigh of relief and murmured, "No matter which god in the sky passes by, bless me this time, or I will have to jump off a building."
What he painted is actually very simple, just a gold bar in Huang Chengcheng. The composition was simple, but it took him more than two hours. On the small bed behind him, there are four paintings side by side. Without exception, they are all gold bars, but the angle of composition is different.
He carefully stacked five paintings together, took out a small lead bucket from under the bed, stuffed the paintings into the bucket, lit them with a lighter, and then squatted on one side hopefully, watching the raging white flame rise high, and only burned the stack of paintings in an instant, leaving not even an ash or even a trace of smoke.
"Standard gold bars are refined successfully, and the percentage of completion is completed. ...
Please adopt