The bluestone road has been soaked black by hundreds of years of rain, and the mottled brick walls hide the secrets of the old city. There are no neon lights here, just grocery stores with faded signs, courtyards covered with vines, and strange rumors passed down by word of mouth.
Some people say that the fitting mirror of the tailor shop at the end of the alley will reflect the figures of ten years ago - a student who came home late once walked in by mistake and saw in the mirror a girl in a blue shirt lowering her head to sew, but when she turned around, only an empty counter was left.
Some old people also say that at midnight on the fifteenth day of every month, there will be a knocking on the door of the abandoned post office. If someone answers, a yellowed letter will be handed out from the crack in the door, but the recipient will be the old householder who has moved away long ago.
The most bizarre is the legend of the clock shop. Whenever there is a heavy rain, the old clock in the store will suddenly ring, and the hands will always stop at three and seven. Some brave people once peeked through the crack of the window and said they saw an old man in Chinese tunic suit wiping a clock behind the counter. When he looked up, his face was blurry.
There is no conclusive evidence for these strange rumors, but they have become the soul of the old city. Children will avoid the post office after school, but they can't help but peek in secretly; residents passing by the tailor shop will always subconsciously glance at the dressing mirror.
The days in the old city are slow, and strange smells are like moss in the corner, growing silently. Maybe one day when you pass by, you will hear faint voices coming from the alley, but when you look back, you will only see the shadow of the wind blowing on the door curtain.
