"Special forces soldiers don't earn a low salary, and your pension must be quite substantial, right? Why not start a small business on your own?" Ye Wudao could understand this kind of pride, which was also the pride of a Martial Artist. Thus, he tactfully refrained from asking the reasons behind it.
"We, as special forces soldiers, deal with death every day. Whenever we are on a mission, we never know if we will return. Many of my comrades have spread their ashes on the battlefield, while their families have fallen into grief, and even suffering. You know, not many soldiers come from wealthy families. Most are children from poor households. That little bit of condolence money, what can it do?" Wang Qiang said to Ye Wudao.
"So you gave your pension to the families of your fallen comrades, right?" Ye Wudao said, somewhat moved.
