Duan Zhijie had also seen those beggars crouching in the corners of the Capital; they were dressed in rags, holding a broken bowl, bowing and scraping to passersby, just for a few copper coins.
However, he felt that apart from the elderly and the disabled, the rest of the young people were not worthy of sympathy.
These young beggars are lazy and just wait for pies to fall from the sky.
But these victims of disaster are different; so many of them, even if they wanted to work, had nowhere to apply their strength because their fields were flooded by the river water.
"Mr. Gu, just give your orders, I dare not disobey!"
Duan Zhijie's impassioned attitude made Gu Chengyu glance at him twice. He didn't expect Duan Zhijie to have such sympathy, which was rare in the bureaucracy.
Duan Zhijie appeared to be past his thirties, having been an official for more than ten years, and his ancestors were people of the Capital.
