Du Ru stood at the front gate of Beijing's First Cotton Textile Factory. An old man sat at the entrance, staring intently at the stranger as if he were a thief.,It's no wonder the old man stared at Du Ruo with eyes like he was looking at a thief. After all, Du Ruo was wearing a patched-up black dress at the moment. She was originally a beautiful and pure girl, with two neat braids, looking very well-behaved. But after coming from Daliu Village to the capital city, she had walked over several mountains on foot, traveled dozens of miles, and spent three days in a carriage. Now, she looked completely lackluster and dull.,Lao Zhou's eyes held a hint of sympathy as he pointed to the north side of the textile mill:。