After Writing a Story for My Husband and Brother

After a brief rest in the room, Zhong Shao opened the door and saw Yu Cheng a few steps away, holding a cup of water.

"Would you like some water?"

Without much courtesy, Zhong Shao replied, "Yes," took the cup of water, and had a few sips.

It was warm water, just like the feeling Yu Cheng's family had given him.

"Wanna go out for a walk?" Yu Cheng took Zhong Shao's water cup, finished the remaining warm water in one gulp.

"I want to visit the old city district."

The guest room window faced the old city district. Unlike the vibrant new district, the old city district exuded a charm of bygone eras with its red bricks and green tiles, embodying the vicissitudes of the city.

Yu Cheng seemed unsurprised by Zhong Shao's answer.

Observing society generally is exploring the other side of a dazzling city.

Both dressed in casual attire, wearing duckbill hats and black masks, they headed out.

The old city district seemed close, but there was still some way to go.

With four steel coins and a car key in his pocket, Yu Cheng asked, "Take a bus or drive?"

"Bus." 

The brim of Zhong Shao's hat shaded the soft light in his dark eyes, as he took two coins from Yu Cheng's palm, "Driving would be less fun."

Near the residential community, just over a hundred meters away, is a bus stop where the bottom of the bus stop sign hints at a special bus service. Unlike the usual white or blue signs, this one is cherry blossom pink, indicating bus route 520. 

Zhong Shao pointed at the pink bus schedule sign and asked Yu Cheng, "Is this a special service?" 

"Yes, not only is it a special bus, but also the only double-decker bus," replied Yu Cheng as he scanned the upcoming stops in order. "Although Ping Cheng is not large, it is still a tourist city. This route reportedly connects several of the busiest stations in the new and old areas of Ping Cheng, offering a glimpse of the city's changes and meeting the commuting and travel needs of more residents." Yu Cheng withdrew his hand, adjusted his cap brim, and said, "Perfect, let's take this bus."

After three stops, Yu Cheng and Zhong Shao got off the bus, next to which was an old community. 

Yu Cheng pointed to a small alley and said, "Walk along here first?" 

Zhong Shao had no objections. 

Four low-rise residential buildings faced each other, and Zhong Shao peered through the exposed entrance of one of the buildings, "These are houses from around the 1970s, right?" "Can you tell?" 

Zhong Shao responded with a sound of agreement and continued, "Although renovated, you can tell they are from the 70s in terms of the building type." 

Yu Cheng was briefly surprised and then remembered Zhong Shao at fifteen playing the young boy in 'Spring', bouncing around in such old buildings. 

"Even a few years earlier," Yu Cheng said, "These buildings are among the earliest residential buildings in Ping Cheng, allocated to the elite of that time. After decades of exposure to the elements, these buildings were identified as Grade C dangerous buildings several years ago, and were rebuilt on the original sites, with the original areas and heights for disaster relief. Most of the people still living here are from the previous generation." 

Still, in the style of the old cylinder buildings, the red walls and white tiles retained traces of the past red bricks and green tiles, yet with some differences.

Turning a corner, the two entered a slate alley where vendors were haggling and bargaining, smiles and daily life unexpectedly falling into view, creating a lively scene. The clean slate road was intricately orderly, with wooden board shops along the street, and vendors carrying flat bands shouting their wares. When tired, they found a spot not obstructing anyone to sit down, fanning themselves with straw hats to continue their business. 

Vegetables and fruits glistened with morning dew, bean products sizzled with a unique aroma, and freshly caught seafood flopped as it was being slaughtered. The green silk bricks and tiles paved the way for a subtle and delicate atmosphere of bustling activity.

Zhong Shao approached the elderly man who had stopped with a carrying pole and crouched down to inquire, "Sir, how much is this?" 

Zhong Shao's slender fingers pointed to the other end of the pole. 

There was a wooden barrel below, with a square board resting on top covered by a clean white cloth. The unmistakable smell of homemade tofu in brine wafted into their noses. Without needing to ask, it was clear that the top was filled with saltwater tofu made at home. "2 Yuan per piece," the old man proudly stated after setting down his straw hat. 

"These are all homemade tofu from our house, guaranteed quality. Young man, take a piece?" 

Zhong Shao, lifting his mask, readily replied, "Sure, give me four pieces." 

"Do you want them connected or separate?" the old man inquired as he lifted the white cloth and held a knife. 

Zhong Shao adjusted his cap, tilted his head, and asked, "Connected or separate?" 

A seemingly simple question, yet the old man detected depth in Zhong Shao's eyes, as profound as the tranquil water or the scorching summer sun. 

Zhong Shao responded, "Either way is fine." 

With a hint of a smile in his dark irises.

The old man swiftly cut four pieces of tofu. "Young man, you're not from around here, are you? You don't seem like a local," he observed as he carefully wrapped the pale tofu in a semi-transparent plastic bag, then covered it with another plastic bag before handing it to Zhong Shao. 

Zhong Shao patiently asked, "How did you figure that out?" 

As the tofu was neatly wrapped in plastic bags, the old man replied, "In this neighbourhood, we mostly have elderly residents. The neighbours who come to this alley to buy groceries are all locals. There aren't many young people like you around, especially not as handsome." "Uncle," Zhong Shao switched to the local dialect, imitating the way people in Ping Cheng spoke, "Are you saying the local young people here aren't as handsome as me?" 

The old man's eyes lit up as he grabbed his straw hat and responded in dialect, "I misspoke earlier. You are the most handsome young man in Ping Cheng." 

While Zhong Shao didn't catch up on all of the brief conversations between the two, he understood the gist. He glanced at the man exuding a radiant smile and glimpsed the confident young man beneath, now 27 years old. 

"You usually seem quite modest, didn't expect you to have this idol baggage," Zhong Shao remarked. 

"This isn't idol baggage, it's about upholding the reputation of Ping Cheng," the young man replied, his smile growing wider as if vying for praise like a child looking for a gold star, "Isn't that right, Sir?" 

The old man waved his straw hat, chuckling at the two unfamiliar young men before him.

The conversation started with dialect jokes, which brought Zhong Shao and Yu Cheng closer. Each taking turns with a sentence, they chatted with the old man. The elderly man, over 70 years old, bore the marks of time on his face. Born and raised in this familiar place, his roots ran deep. 

After being transferred for work to a neighbouring city in the second year of his marriage, decades passed before he and his wife retired and returned to their hometown due to overwhelming nostalgia. Five years ago, his wife passed away, prompting the old man to start selling tofu. Reflecting on his past, he realised that his dedication to woodworking in his youth paled in comparison to the tofu his wife made for him. 

As they parted ways with the old man, both Zhong Shao and Yu Cheng lingered until he became a blurry figure in the distance. 

"What are you thinking about?" Yu Cheng spoke up. 

Zhong Shao furrowed his brow, adjusted his face mask, and lifted a plastic bag. "I'm thinking, are you familiar with this area?"