The late autumn evening breeze carries a bit of coolness, rolling the sycamore leaves and brushing against the window sills of the old residential buildings, making a soft rustling sound. Huo Ci sat on the pony by the window, an unlit cigarette between his fingertips, and his eyes fell on the flow of people under the dim street lights downstairs. The wonton stall at the entrance of the alley was filled with steam, and the shouts of the owner and his wife floated up together with the sound of bicycle bells, becoming the most vivid background sound in the evening.
"Why are you dazed? The shepherd's purse wontons that have just come out of the pot will get cold if you don't eat them." Su Wan's voice came from the door, with a little warmth. She was holding a white porcelain bowl in her hand, and the rim of the bowl was still steaming. The dense water vapor blurred the outline of her cheeks.
