The morning light in the Antique Street always carries an indescribable smell, mixed with the musty smell of old wood, the rusty smell of copper, and the aroma of fried dough sticks wafting from the roadside breakfast stalls, enveloping people as they move forward in a lively manner. He Yi held the meat bun he just bought in his mouth and walked on the stone road to his "Yipinzhai". He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, his hair was casually scratched, and he was smiling at the corners of his eyes. He looked like a young man with no appearance. Who would have thought that the repair work he was doing would rank among the top three on this street.
"Good morning, boy!" Fatty Wang, who runs the pawnshop next door, stuck his head out, holding a newly collected copper cigarette pot in his hand, "Have you finished repairing the batch of goods last night? I'll keep your lights on until late at night."
