The morning sun slanted through the wooden lattice windows of Old Yang's teahouse, bathing the enamel tea mugs and glass candy jars on the table in a warm glow. The fragrance of jasmine tea mingled with the aroma of fried dough sticks from the breakfast stalls in the alley, drifting lazily around the room. Old Yang was wiping down the counter with a rag when he heard footsteps clomping at the entrance. He looked up and saw Wang Jianguo coming in with a bulging coarse-cloth sack.
"Old Yang, bring me a pot of jasmine tea!" Wang Jianguo set the sack down on the square table by the door and wiped the sweat from his brow. He had just come in from the fields on the outskirts of town, and his trouser cuffs were still speckled with
