Mr. Yu blinked, saying, "Then you should take a closer look at a fist manual to remember it well."
Zhang Xiaohua said: "Not really, Mr. Yu, sigh, forget it, I'll just look at this one."
Unable to argue with Mr. Yu, Zhang Xiaohua didn't bother explaining. He randomly pulled out a fist manual from the collection, tucked it in his chest without looking at its title, bid farewell to Mr. Yu, and returned home with little interest.
Looking at Zhang Xiaohua's thin figure retreating, Mr. Yu shook his head helplessly and muttered, "This child, sigh, is really quite stubborn."
Feeling somewhat emotional, he ceased his meditation, stepped off the Kang and went to the shelf that Zhang Xiaohua had been looking at. Seeing the dust-covered shelves, Mr. Yu couldn't help but feel desolate. Since his injury, he had lost a lot of his ambition and lacked the drive that Zhang Xiaohua had. Maybe he should do something more?
