In the century-old aroma of braised food drifting beneath a locust tree in Bianjing lies the story of a couple whose love spans time.
The year Sixifan transferred to Jingjiu High School, she collided with Chen Heting's smiling eyes in front of the science and humanities class assignment board. He was a mischievous boy with perfect scores in physics; she was the quiet friend who watched him date three different girls. At university, their campuses faced each other across a street. He borrowed her thin-framed sunglasses at a sports meet and “forgot” to return them until graduation, when he tucked them into her yearbook. On the Beijing subway, he brought her candied hawthorns, traveling an hour to see her. Then a car accident finally made him confess at her bedside: “Sixifan, I'm afraid of losing you.”
But marriage couldn't withstand the grind of daily life. The day after their divorce, at a crosstalk theater, Jia Xuming hadn't finished singing “The Slow Old Days” when a sudden jolt sent them tumbling into an abandoned temple in Bianjing during the Northern Song dynasty. With no money and nowhere to stay, Chen Heting hid in a pile of straw, avoiding reality. Sixifan, however, pawned her grandmother's silver hairpin and set up a little stall selling “jianbing guozi.” This modern street food had the people of Bianjing lining up in no time.
