During their conversation, a knock on the door was heard, and Qian Zhigao walked in from outside.
His face was etched with worry.
"Director Qian, what's wrong?"
Upon seeing him, Zhou Weining followed up with a question.
Zhou Qing moved aside, poured a cup of tea for Qian Zhigao, and stood by the door.
Qian Zhigao rubbed his hands, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke up, "Secretary Zhou, there's a crowd of people gathered outside the petitions office, coming in every day to submit their grievances."
"But isn't the petitions office there for people to come forward with their issues? If there weren't any visitors, what would be the point of having a petitions office?"
Zhou Weining lit a cigarette and spoke indifferently.
He had known that Qian Zhigao really lacked the capacity to deal with problems and was overwhelmed by the slightest issues.
Zhou Qing stood to the side, remaining silent.
