Feng Qingxue was quick to action, immediately going to Wang Zhenguo to secure a letter of introduction.
He Hongjun was a man of unknown origins, not to mention a young man in his prime. The sooner he was sent off, the less likely it was to spark rumours.
Upon understanding the situation, Wang Zhenguo stamped the paper as he spoke, "Ah, we've seen so many years of disaster and famine, every year dozens to hundreds of refugees come to our production brigade. Today's passerby is just another one. You'll get used to it."
As he finished, he paused his writing, muttering to himself, "He Hongjun... the name sounds familiar."
"Uncle, do you know him?", Feng Qingxue couldn't help but ask out of curiosity.
"Can't remember." Wang Zhenguo shook his head, "When you get older, your memory isn't as good."
