I met my whole family through Baidu Tieba.

In winter, it gets dark very early; it's already dark before six o'clock.

Bus route 52 was stuck in traffic during the evening rush hour.

The bus was packed with people, there were no empty seats left, and there was hardly any room to stand. The standing passengers were holding onto the handrails, and it was difficult for them to even turn around.

The crowds made the car interior warm, but the smell wasn't very pleasant.

Zhang Lin leaned back and pinched his nose.

He was a man in his late twenties, dressed neatly and cleanly, looking like an office worker. Because he boarded the bus early, he managed to get a seat, sitting in the last row by the window.

"Hey, Mr. Zhang, what? Going back to revise the plan now?" "I'll buy some ready-made food at the entrance of the complex later, so don't cook today." "It's only three stops away."...

The bus was very noisy; some people were chatting, some were shouting, and some were making phone calls.

Zhang Lin ignored me, turned his head to look out the car window at me, feeling very annoyed, as if a lump of cotton was stuck in his throat.

The reason for my frustration is the project review meeting this afternoon.

Zhang Lin is a civil servant who recently passed the civil service exam and entered a provincial government agency. He is currently working in the Fixed Asset Investment Division of the Development and Reform Commission.

It's the end of the year, and all departments are rushing to meet deadlines. This afternoon's meeting was to review the infrastructure construction projects for industrial parks submitted by three cities. There were people from several departments of the Development and Reform Commission, as well as representatives from the Provincial Department of Finance, the Department of Construction, and the Department of Land and Resources, totaling about twenty people.

The section chief had spoken to Zhang Lin beforehand, saying, "Zhang, you'll take the meeting minutes."

This wasn't the first time Zhang Lin had taken notes. In the two or three months since he joined the company, he had attended no fewer than twenty or thirty meetings, big and small, but today's meeting was different.

This meeting was large in scale, involved many units, and covered a wide range of complex issues. Everyone spoke within their own professional jargon: the person from the Finance Department started by talking about "budgetary funds," "matching ratios," and "local fiscal affordability assessment"; the person from the Construction Department talked about "planning and site selection opinions" and "pre-conditions for construction project planning permits"; the person from the Land and Resources Department talked about "land use pre-approval," "land regulation adjustment," and "land occupation and compensation balance indicators"...

Zhang Lin frantically took notes, his pen practically sparking, but the problem wasn't how much he wrote down, but that he couldn't distinguish between what he should and shouldn't write down.

Someone spoke for five minutes, and he took notes densely for most of the page. But when he looked back, he realized that the only truly effective points he made were probably in the last thirty seconds. Someone else spoke passionately and impassionedly, and he thought it was very important. But when the department head quietly turned a page of materials, he realized that it was just empty rhetoric.

The meeting lasted two and a half hours. By the end, Zhang Lin's wrists were sore. His notebook was filled with dozens of pages of notes, and his handwriting gradually changed from neat on the first page to scribbles on the last few pages.

As the section chief stood up to tidy up the materials, he casually remarked, "Xiao Zhang, give me the meeting minutes before you leave work today."

Zhang Lin responded, then returned to his workstation, opened his notebook, and began organizing from the beginning.

He wrote the first paragraph, felt it was wrong, deleted it, and rewrote it. He wrote the second paragraph, still felt it was wrong, and deleted it again. When he got to the third paragraph, he realized that he simply couldn't extract a logically clear and focused meeting record from these messy raw notes—he couldn't distinguish which were substantive opinions, which were perfunctory statements, which were just polite remarks from the moderator, and which were key statements.

In the end, Zhang Lin gritted his teeth and cobbled together a six-page summary, which he delivered to the director's office before the end of the workday.

The section chief was busy at the time and told him to leave first.

After waiting for several tens of minutes, the department head called and asked him to come over.

When Zhang Lin pushed open the door, the section chief was leaning back in his chair, holding the minutes he had written, with a frown on his face.

"Xiao Zhang,"

Upon seeing Zhang Lin enter, the section chief placed the minutes on the table. "These minutes of yours... how should I put it, they're like a transcript of a recording."

Zhang Lin, on the other hand, felt a little embarrassed.

The section chief flipped through the pages, then said, "You've taken notes on everything, but what's the key point?...

After pointing out some of Zhang Lin's problems, the director tapped the table and said, "Take it back and reorganize it. Put it on my desk tomorrow morning."

Zhang Lin remained silent, took the papers, said "Okay," and turned to leave.

As he reached the door, the section chief said from behind, "Xiao Zhang, you've been here for over two months now, haven't you? You shouldn't still be clueless by now."

This sentence carries more weight than all the preceding sentences combined.

When Zhang Lin returned to his workstation, most of the people in the office had already left.

He sat there, staring at the dozens of pages of original records and the rejected meeting minutes, and suddenly felt that he seemed particularly stupid.

It's not that he doesn't try.

For the past few months, he has arrived at the office twenty minutes early every day, and he has never been late with any tasks assigned to him. However, some things seem to be beyond the reach of hard work; they require something he has yet to grasp—an understanding of the power structure, a perception of the power structure of meetings, and a sense of who "carries the weight of their words and who is just talking."

No one had taught Zhang Lin these things.

The clerk in the office, Director Gu, was quite senior, having been in the department for over a decade. He always sat in the corner during meetings and rarely spoke, but the department head would always glance at him before setting the tone—Zhang Lin noticed this detail just a few days after joining the company.

Zhang Lin had tried to consult him, but Director Gu's attitude remained consistently polite, answering only one question at a time without uttering a single extra word. It wasn't that he was unfriendly, but rather that he was clearly maintaining a distance.

Everyone else in the office was busy with their own things, and no one had time to mentor a newcomer.

Zhang Lin understood that this wasn't a school, but he really didn't know how to get over this hurdle.

……

It was almost seven o'clock when I got home.

Pushing open the door, Zhang Lin saw that the living room lights were on, and his mother, Yang Shumin, was sitting on the sofa watching TV, with cut fruit on the coffee table.

Father Zhang Taihong was not in the living room; the door to the study was closed, with a thin sliver of light shining through the crack in the door.

"You're back. Have you eaten?" Yang Shumin asked when she saw her son return.

"I ate at work."

Zhang Lin changed his shoes, walked to the sofa, threw his bag on it, and plopped down on it. He then leaned back, closed his eyes, and pressed his temples with both hands.

Yang Shumin felt a little sorry for him, so she got up and went to the kitchen to bring out a bowl of soup and placed it in front of him. "Drink this. It's been simmering for several hours. It's good for replenishing qi and blood."

Zhang Lin picked up the bowl and drank it.

Yang Shumin sat down beside her and began her usual nagging: "Why are you so late again today? Is your department so busy at the end of the year?"

"I had a meeting this afternoon and need to take minutes," Zhang Lin said in a muffled voice, putting down his soup bowl.

"Are you done?"

"It was rejected."

Yang Shumin frowned, glanced towards the study, and said in a low voice, "Ask your dad. He's spent most of his life in the government office. What kind of meeting hasn't he attended? What kind of minutes hasn't he written? It's better for him to tell you than for you to guess on your own."

Zhang Lin said in a low voice, "I don't want to ask him everything."

Yang Shumin got impatient: "You child, why do you ask me everything? He's your father! When you were little, you would ask him for help with your homework, how come you've become like this now that you're older..."

"Mom," Zhang Lin interrupted her, "that's different."

"What's different?" Yang Shumin asked, puzzled.

Zhang Lin lowered his head and spoke softly, "From childhood to adulthood, wherever I went, people would say, 'This is Zhang Taihong's son.' In middle school, because of my dad, the teachers took special care of me. When filling out college applications, he found acquaintances in the system to help me with my applications, and everyone took it for granted. When I took the civil service exam, my written test score was average, and someone said behind my back, 'Don't underestimate him just because his written test score was average, but in the interview, can his dad not influence things? He's guaranteed to pass.' Mom, I didn't mention my dad's name once during the interview, just to prove one thing—I can succeed without Zhang Taihong."

The living room was quiet for a few seconds.

Yang Shumin felt that men could be really inexplicable sometimes. However, since her son had this attitude, she didn't want to continue the conversation, so she changed the subject and brought up something she was more concerned about.

"By the way, Anjia Home Services launched a new thing today called 'Anjia Local Club,' which is an online club. The threshold for this club is quite high. Our family wasn't eligible at first, but they have an event now. If a user has a child who has passed the civil service exam, and they donate their unused civil service exam study materials and notes, they can get an invitation."

"I thought, since your things are useless now anyway, I donated them to them. They also said that your civil service exam materials might help a college student pass the exam and change their family's fate..."

Zhang Lin listened for a while, then nodded. "It's fine, I have no objections."

If what An Jia said is true, and his information can help future generations, then it can be considered a meritorious deed and a good deed.

This eased Zhang Lin's agitated mood somewhat.

Seeing that her son had no objections, Yang Shumin took out a slip of paper. "The invitation qualification has been obtained. Their invitation qualification is quite similar to a household registration book; it is issued on a family basis. One head of household is the main account, and this main account can generate several invitation codes for other sub-accounts in the family. This is the sub-account I generated for you. You can buy it on Anjia's website later and use this invitation code to register an account for their Tongcheng Hui (Local Community Club)."

Zhang Lin took the note and looked down at it.

Yang Shumin continued, somewhat excitedly: "Let me tell you, everyone who can join this local community now is from a good family. You don't have a boyfriend yet, right? You can browse around here, chat with more people, and maybe you'll find someone who shares your interests."

As she spoke, Yang Shumin added, afraid that her son would be embarrassed, "They told me that I can only send you one invitation code. As for your own account name and what you usually do, I don't know anything about you."

Yang Shumin felt that Anjia's actions in this regard were very thoughtful.

After all, even if her son finds a partner online, he certainly wouldn't want his mother to see it. Young people are like that, all sensitive.

"I'm going back to my room."

Zhang Lin casually picked up the note, grabbed his bag, and went back to his room. He didn't want to hear his mother talk about blind dates anymore—he was too busy with work to think about such nonsense.

Back in his room, Zhang Lin did nothing else but take out the documents and records he had brought back and continue working.

Just like in the afternoon, he worked for more than an hour but still couldn't find any clues.

"call……"

Zhang Lin looked up from the pile of documents, let out a long breath, decided to stop looking at them for the time being, took a break, picked up a glass of water, and gulped it down.

While drinking water, he inadvertently glanced at the note on the table—it was something he had casually placed on the table when he brought it back earlier.

After putting down his water glass, Zhang Lin thought for a moment and decided to turn on his computer to surf the internet for a while to clear his head.

When Zhang Lin was in college, he actually quite enjoyed playing video games.

But after graduating and passing the civil service exam, he was busy getting used to the new world and had no time or interest in playing games. So now, when he turns on his computer, he doesn't know what to do for a moment.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the note with the homeowner's invitation code.

So Zhang Lin opened Anjia Housekeeping's official website and, sure enough, found something new there.

Zhang Lin clicked on the "Anjia Local Community" page, and the refreshed page was a three-column layout.

The box above is divided into two parts. The top part is "Today's Hot Topics". Only one of the following contents is clear: "Looking at the opportunities in the next round of consumer sectors from the recent fluctuations in oil painting prices".

The content that follows has been blurred.

The following section is "The Voice at This Moment," and only one message is clear: "Don't just look at your child's AP scores. Ivy League schools now look at what students 'care about,' not 'how many tests they got.'"

The subsequent content was also blurred.

Ignoring everything else, just seeing these two clear points gave Zhang Lin a first impression—the people here were indeed discussing high-level topics.

He continued reading.

The middle column features a black-and-white, slightly out-of-focus image of a city nightscape.

Below is the accompanying text: We are inviting the first batch of residents. Not everyone lives on this street, but someone has to be the first to turn on the lights.

Below that, in smaller print, a number flashed: "Currently on, 23/200"

The bottom column is a text box that looks like a declaration:

Anjia Tongcheng Hui is not open to public registration.

We are looking for people who are willing to share their experiences and know how to listen.

At the very bottom of the page, there is a login/register button.

The entire page is understated and restrained, yet it exudes an understated sense of sophistication, which is quite to Zhang Lin's liking.

Since he was taking a break anyway, he simply registered an account.

Zhang Lin's family has an account with Anjia Household Services.

However, that account was solely for purchasing Anjia Housekeeping services online, so only one was needed—Yang Shumin's account. Therefore, Zhang Lin himself did not have an account.

Now, after registering on-site and following the instructions to enter the invitation code, he successfully became a member of Anjia Tongcheng Hui.

The page was refreshed again, no longer displaying the three-column window seen in the previous guest mode, but instead a brand-new community-style window with three columns on the left, middle, and right.

On the left are some information feeds, such as "Today's Hot Topics", but the most eye-catching one is "Today's User Ranking", below which are several user avatars and nicknames, arranged one, two, three.

In the middle, there is a layout similar to a Baidu Tieba plaza.

At the very top are sub-tags such as "All", "Local Life", "Workplace Communication", "Investment and Finance", and "Family Matters".

The rest of the interface is mostly filled with posts.

Clicking on the small tags above will change the appearance of these posts—clicking "All" will display all posts; clicking "Local Life" will turn these posts into posts in the "Local Life" section, and so on.

The right-hand column is "My Local Area".

After a little research, Zhang Lin understood that "My City" was similar to QQ Space.

After studying the website for a short while, Zhang Lin's gaze fell on the small labels at the top of the middle column.

"Workplace communication..."

Zhang Lin thought for a moment and then clicked on the "Workplace Communication" tab.

The posts below have become scarce.

It's clear that this local community forum just launched today, and there are very few users—only 23 people—so there are very few posts here.

Zhang Lin glanced at the few posts, but found none of them interesting. After hesitating for a while, he suddenly felt an impulse.

Based on everything I've heard and what my mother has said, this place seems quite sophisticated. So, is there someone here who can help me solve my problem?

Zhang Lin didn't know why he was unwilling to ask his father for help, but he had no psychological barrier to asking strangers for help—otherwise, he wouldn't have wanted to consult with that Director Gu in the first place.

After hesitating for a while, Zhang Lin actually started posting.

Since I'm just killing time anyway, I might as well give it a try.

Soon, a title was chosen: "Newcomer to Provincial Government Agencies Always Misses the Key Points in Meeting Minutes, Does Anyone Know What to Do?"

He spent quite a while writing the main text, mainly because he didn't want to reveal his identity. So he had to blur things out in many places while still highlighting the specific issues.

In addition to the main text, Zhang Lin also wrote down some other things, such as "the boss said I sounded like I was doing audio-to-text transcription" and his confusion over the past few months since joining the company.

Hey, you know what, his writing is pretty good. He really captured that feeling of helplessness—"trying so hard but just not getting anywhere"—into his writing.

It seems that Zhang Lin was also releasing all the pressure that had been building up in his heart over the past few months in this way.

When he reached the end, he hesitated for a moment and added two more sentences: "I actually have elders at home I can consult. They've worked in the system for most of their lives, and they can definitely explain things to me clearly. But I don't want to have to rely on my family every time I encounter a problem."

He didn't know why he added that sentence, but he just did.

After finishing writing, Zhang Lin sent the post out.

After the post was sent, he waited a while and kept refreshing the page.

However, there are currently too few users on this website, so in such a short time, no one replied to his post at all, not even a casual "first comment," let alone any genuine advice or help.

"I wonder if anyone will actually reply..."

After muttering something, Zhang Lin shook his head, got up, left the computer, and went to take a shower.

Maybe taking a shower and refreshing yourself will give you inspiration to sort out your work?

Unfortunately, after taking a bath, Zhang Lin still couldn't find any inspiration.

This frustrated him somewhat.

But after he dried his hair, sat back down at the computer, and refreshed the page, Zhang Lin was stunned.

There were still no generic "sofa" or "floor" replies, which are common on other similar forums, but a new reply was added.

A very long reply.

"Little friend, seeing your post reminded me of myself thirty years ago."

"Your question actually has two parts, let me break it down for you."

Zhang Lin, who was drying his hair with a towel, put the towel down and started reading carefully when he saw this.

"The first layer is a technical issue. Meeting minutes are not simply audio-to-text recordings; you need to learn to distinguish between four types of statements."

"First, the keynote remarks from the moderator, such as 'Today's meeting mainly addresses a certain issue' or 'The major principles have already been decided by the committee.' These statements determine the direction and boundaries of the meeting and should be carefully noted. Second, the substantive opinions from relevant departments, such as the Finance Department saying 'the matching funds are not in place' or the Construction Department saying 'there are problems with the planning and site selection.' These are concrete opinions that will directly affect whether a project can be approved, and should be noted word for word. Third, the statements from relevant departments, such as 'Our department agrees in principle' or 'We suggest further improvements before submission.' Only the conclusions need to be noted; the details can be omitted. Fourth, the final decision from the leader—this is non-negotiable, and every word must be written down."

"Before the next meeting, take five minutes to find out the companies and positions of the attendees, and draw a simple seating chart in your notebook beforehand. During the meeting, when you hear someone speak, first determine in your mind which of the four categories mentioned above they belong to, and then decide how much to write down and how detailed to write it down. With a framework in mind, your pen won't get messy."

Zhang Lin watched intently.

Upon seeing this, he suddenly remembered the meeting that afternoon.

He closed his eyes and thought about it carefully:

When Director Qin from the Finance Department said that "the matching funds were not in place," the director did look up at him and even wrote something in his notebook. It was clearly a substantial and hard opinion, but he had mixed it up with other people's statements in the minutes and put it in an inconspicuous corner. No wonder the director criticized him for "not extracting the core judgment."

Zhang Lin was somewhat excited.

He had a vague feeling that he was like a male protagonist in an online novel who had transmigrated to a large family in another world, and was struggling with the cultivation techniques issued by the family.

"Public strength, third rank!"

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break through, and could only suffer in silence by the cliff behind the mountain.

But at that moment, the ring on my hand suddenly spoke!

"Young friend, have you encountered a bottleneck in your cultivation?"

An old man, smiling and talking, then emerged from his ring.

Then, the old man began to instruct him, pointing out the difficulties and problems he encountered during his cultivation process. Those problems that troubled him seemed as simple as chopping vegetables in the old man's eyes.

Under the old man's guidance, I finally began to understand and break through the bottleneck!

Public power, fourth rank! ...

But the guidance wasn't over yet.

Zhang Lin couldn't wait to continue reading.

"The second layer is a matter of mindset."

"You said that there are people in the office who are unwilling to teach you. It's not necessarily because they have bad intentions. They might be afraid that even if they teach you, you won't be grateful, and if they teach you wrong, they will have to take responsibility. Therefore, they are too lazy to teach you."

"Alternatively, it's possible that you asked the question in the wrong way. Think back, did you ask it in front of everyone?"

Zhang Lin was taken aback when he saw this.

This person was right.

He recalled that once, in the office, in front of three or four people, he asked Director Gu a question.

Director Gu smiled and said, "Well, you'll understand eventually," then picked up his teacup and left.

At the time, I felt the other person was just being perfunctory, but now I realize that asking for advice in front of so many people put them in a position where they "had to give an answer"—teaching too much might lead to mistakes, while teaching too little would seem insincere. The safest approach was not to teach at all.

Zhang Lin suddenly realized, slapped his forehead, and continued reading.

"Try a different approach. Don't ask in the office in front of everyone. Try asking him when he's alone, like during lunch or before he leaves work. 'Professor, I'm really stuck on this. Could you take five minutes of my time to help me out?' Be humble, but not subservient. Make him see you as someone with potential, not someone who just wants something for him..."

Zhang Lin read it intently, as if he were starving, not missing a single word.

At the end, the person who replied to this post wrote the following.

"...In short, the worst thing for a newcomer is to be impatient. If your boss says you can't write the minutes well, go back and reorganize the original meeting minutes according to the four frameworks I mentioned. Put them on his desk first thing tomorrow morning, and don't say anything unnecessary."

Finally, a simple, hand-typed meeting minutes template was also included. It used plain text symbols to draw a framework and clearly marked the format and style of the five main parts: "Basic Meeting Information", "Chairman's Tone", "Substantive Opinions from Various Departments", "Statements from Relevant Departments", and "Decisions Decisiond at the Meeting".

Zhang Lin stared at the template for a long time.

Then he did something: he took the dozens of pages of original records, spread them out on his desk, picked up a red pen, and began marking each comment according to the four categories the respondent had described: triangles for tone-setting comments, circles for substantive opinions, horizontal lines for statements of stance, and stars for final decisions...

Zhang Lin felt like he was in a mysterious cultivation state, just like the male protagonist in an online novel.

It seemed as if he could also hear some strange noises:

Public power, fifth dan!

The power of the public, sixth dan! ...

And so, after fifteen minutes of "cultivation," something divine happened.

The previously dense and tangled records of conversations suddenly became clear in their hierarchy after being categorized into those four types.

He discovered that the two-and-a-half-hour meeting in the afternoon was truly decisive in only three parts: First, the director's opening remarks, which set the three discussion directions as "project compliance, funding availability, and land approval progress"; second, the issues raised by Lao Qin from the Finance Department regarding matching funds and the planning and site selection issues raised by the Construction Department, which were substantial obstacles; and third, the director's final decision-making remarks—the project was approved in principle, but two issues required supplementary materials, with a deadline of ten working days.

The rest of the speeches, including which departments expressed "agreement in principle," which people made grand pronouncements on the significance of the project, and which people oscillated between two specific issues—all these are statements of opinion or procedural matters, and should be mentioned in just one or two sentences in the minutes.

As Zhang Lin watched and pondered, a strange feeling crept over him:

With the power of the public, I have achieved the ninth level of Great Perfection!

Next, Zhang Lin spent another hour compressing dozens of pages of original records into a five-page meeting minutes, following the template.

After finishing writing, Zhang Lin picked it up and looked it over. He found that the document was neatly formatted, logically clear, and highlighted the key points, which made him feel incredible. This was completely different from the "audio-to-text" document he had submitted that afternoon!

At this moment, he finally understood why the director thought that the document he had submitted was simply a "transcription of audio recordings".

"Awesome..."

Zhang Lin couldn't help but sigh. Not at his own awesomeness, but at the awesomeness of the "old man".

It was after the "old man's" instruction, the "cultivation" just now, and the final "breakthrough" that he felt he had successfully broken through and reached the "public" realm!

Next come the ranks: Grand Master, Grand Master, Duke Spirit, Duke King, Duke Emperor, Duke Ancestor, Duke Venerable, Duke Saint, Duke Emperor...

After thinking about all sorts of random things for a while, Zhang Lin laughed at himself and shook his head.

Subsequently, Zheng Zhong replied to the respondent.

"Thank you so much! This is so useful; it solved a problem for me! Although I don't know who you are, I'll remember this for a long time. Thank you again!"

After sending the message, Zhang Lin stood up and paced back and forth in the room, somewhat excited.

He discovered that this Anjia Tongcheng Hui was truly amazing! As expected of a high-end community, it actually solved a problem that had been bothering him for a long time. It was like the old man in the online novel was cheating!

This website is great, I'll definitely use it more often...

Zhang Lin paced back and forth excitedly, but after a while, he gradually slowed down.

At the same time, he looked up towards the study, his gaze seemingly able to penetrate the wall and see his father inside.

The "old man" was really helpful. He not only answered all of my questions, but he also responded to my last question about having elders at home but not wanting to ask them for help.

"You yourself mentioned that you have elders who have worked in the system for most of their lives. I can completely understand that you don't want to rely on them, but you can think about it from a different perspective—you don't want them to help you based on their 'blood ties,' but you can treat them as an 'experienced senior' to consult. Isn't it essentially the same as asking for help from others here? In the end, it's still a matter of your own mindset."

"Actually, I can roughly guess your relationship with this blood relative, which is why I'm taking the time to help you answer your questions. I feel that many things, once they exist, already exist. Being too concerned about a label will only burden you with unnecessary baggage..."

The way this "old man" uses words is mostly very sophisticated.

Only in this part does it take on a bit of "human touch".

Zhang Lin was subtly moved: Perhaps this old man also had a son like himself? Maybe he was also moved by the scene before him, which was why he took the time to answer his question? ...

After thinking for a while, Zhang Lin made up his mind, left the room, went to the door of the study, and gently knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Zhang Taihong's voice came from behind the door.

Zhang Lin pushed open the door and went in. He saw Zhang Taihong's ancestor sitting at his desk, with an internal briefing from the Finance Department spread out in front of him. He had his reading glasses perched on his nose and was holding a pen in his hand.

He looked up at Zhang Lin but didn't say anything, seemingly waiting for Zhang Lin to speak.

Zhang Lin was already used to this. After hesitating for a few seconds, he finally spoke up: "Dad, there was a project review meeting this afternoon. I was taking meeting minutes, but the director rejected them. He said I was taking notes by transcribing the audio."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Taihong took off his reading glasses, leaned back in his chair, glanced at his son, and asked, "What project?"

Zhang Lin said, "The industrial park's infrastructure was reported by the three cities."

Zhang Taihong's voice was calm and formulaic, as if he were addressing a subordinate rather than a son. "How did you take notes this afternoon? Explain in detail."

Zhang Lin then recounted the events of the afternoon and temporarily revised his own meeting minutes into a new set of minutes he had just created following the "old man's" instructions.

After listening, Zhang Taihong remained expressionless for a while, then pulled out a piece of white paper and drew a simple table on it with a pen.

"Your approach is correct in direction, but it's not enough. Let me add something."

"In meeting minutes, substantive opinions and statements of opinion are not separate. Sometimes a department may appear to be expressing an opinion, but in reality, it is subtly raising objections. You need to learn to read the 'buts.' For example, 'I agree in principle, but further discussion is recommended.' Ignore the first part; the second part is the truth. In government offices, you can't just say no directly; you need to understand the indirect meaning..."

And so Zhang Taihong began to instruct Zhang Lin.

As the father and son were talking, the door was suddenly pushed open.

"What time is it? Why aren't you here yet...?"

Yang Shumin walked in, her face initially showing anger, but upon seeing the father and son discussing work together in the study, her words suddenly faltered, like a chicken with its neck being choked.

Zhang Taihong paused for a moment.

Both father and son looked at Yang Shumin.

"..."

Yang Shumin paused for a moment, then suddenly turned around. "There's still soup simmering in the kitchen; I forgot to turn off the heat."

After leaving the study, Yang Shumin quietly closed the door behind her and her son before sitting down on the sofa in the living room, looking quite pleasantly surprised.

To their surprise, the son's temperament and personality were exactly like his father's. It had been a long time since the son had had such a harmonious face-to-face conversation since he grew up.

It's astonishing that he can now calmly let his father talk to him!

What is gratifying is naturally the miraculous change that has taken place in both father and son.

Yang Shumin sat there in the living room, pleasantly surprised. After a while, her son came out of the study, ready to go back to his room.

Seeing this, Yang Shumin quickly intervened, pulling her son into the living room. After glancing towards the study, she lowered her voice and asked, "I just asked you to consult your father, and you said you wouldn't go. Why did you go anyway?"

"It's nothing, it's just that asking anyone doesn't really matter."

Zhang Lin gave a perfunctory reply, then paused and added, "Mom, this Anjia Tongcheng Hui is indeed quite good."

Yang Shumin seemed to understand something: What does this mean? Could it be that her son's changes are actually related to this website? ...

"If you like it, spend more time on it and get to know more people."

Ignoring everything else, Yang Shumin steered the conversation back to what she cared about most: "If you could meet some young girls there, that would be best. People you meet there are always better than the petty thugs you knew before..."

Zhang Lin quickly interrupted her, saying helplessly, "Mom, he just grew up in an alley, he's not some kind of hoodlum. You should use this local forum more often."

He didn't say what he meant—his mother still had too much of a commoner's air about her. The people on the local forum seemed more sophisticated; if his mother interacted with them more, perhaps this commoner's air would fade considerably.

After saying that, Zhang Lin quickly went back to his room.

Yang Shumin watched him return to his room and close the door, then muttered to herself, "Of course I'll go more often."

As she spoke, she stopped staying in the living room—she had been waiting there for her son to come to her.

Now, naturally, I returned to the master bedroom and walked to a laptop on the dressing table, where the Anjia Local Community website was open.

Yang Shumin has just posted a "friendship request" for her son in the "family matters" section.

So far, however, not many people have given a proper reply.

However, Yang Shumin's attention is not on this at the moment.

At first, she really did go to this website to find a partner for her son. But now, her purpose has changed slightly.