At the exit of the train station, the gateway to Haitian City where steel and dreams are intertwined, the sun shines just right, coating the busy flow of people with a golden glow. In this intersection of light and shadow, an old man in Taoist robes covered with the weather of time, like an immortal walking in the world in ancient legends, holding an iron-spoken magic arithmetic that seemed ordinary but revealed a mysterious luster, stopped the young man Zhang Zhijun who had just jumped off the time train.
