"Old man didn't have any relatives, right?"
At the old man's funeral, Wang Jian watched as several slightly disabled young people spoke on stage.
"Mr. John was a respected mentor; he taught us how to truly face life."
"Wang, I always feel these young people are a bit odd; their expressions when they saw you, very much like a police inspecting a criminal."
Tom, who had accompanied Wang Jian to the funeral, whispered to him, "Look behind you, those are the normal reactions when people see you."
Wang Jian turned around and saw many people smiling at him, some even eagerly ready to strike up a conversation.
He quickly turned his head back and continued watching the stage.
Just sighing in his heart, "The old man's popularity doesn't seem too good."
When Wang Jian used the old man's contacts to invite his former colleagues and friends, their first reaction was to pretend not to recognize him.
