Feng Yin took the household registration book and opened it.
He is really old enough.
Feng Yin just turned over casually and saw the old man’s wife’s name, the dead seal. On the next page is the name of a man, Ying Guoqiang, the eldest son, and there is also a dead seal on it.
In just a few seconds, Feng Yin finished reading the entire household registration book.
The old man has four sons, the eldest and second sons. The second son has died. Only the youngest survived. Ying Guocheng, who is 37 years old, is considered to have a son in old age.
“Do you have so many sons?”
Feng Yin’s question seemed to tear open the old man’s wound. His hand covered in mud and wrinkles took away the household registration book in Feng Yin’s hand, sucked his nose, and let out a heavy nostalgia.
“Everyone left, I’m just a bad old man.”
This sentence contains the bitterness and bitterness of the world, separation from the world.
“Boss…”
Lin Yu really couldn’t stand it anymore. He couldn’t think about it when he couldn’t see it, but he couldn’t be indifferent when he saw it.
“I know, let’s go to the bank now, otherwise you don’t have cash, right?”
“Yes, let’s go to the bank.”
Lin Yu nodded affirmatively, Feng Yin took out his cell phone, took a photo of the old man’s household head, and comforted him, “Wait for us, we will be back later.”
“Thank you! Thank you!”
The old man said as he was about to kneel down to several people. Zhang Boer first responded to help the old man, but Feng Yin did not move at all.
“Thank you, I’ll thank you for Xiao Ming. He can live, and he can live, thank you!”