Yang Chengheng's Chengheng Restaurant is located on the old street of Qingyu City. He makes soup at four o'clock in the morning every day, and his spiritual pet Yuanbao squats by the stove and uses his tail to predict today's profit and loss. Neighbor Zhou Min asked him to make a birthday banquet for nothing, and gave Sun Demao credit for half a year without repaying it. Lin Qiaoyun, the street director, always said, "Young people should contribute more." He smiled and agreed, until Yuan Bao's prediction showed that his lucky value had returned to zero today. He closed his eyes and served the last piece of braised pork to the old man who never gave him money. When the old man took the first bite, tears suddenly fell into the bowl. The tip of Yuanbao's tail glowed with golden light, and the price was that he couldn't move for three days. At closing time late at night, there was an unfamiliar line of writing on the ledger: "God will repay you for your slowness." He looked up and saw a girl carrying a musical instrument case standing outside the door - Yang Yao. She asked: "I heard that you can repair the old pipa left by your father?"
At eleven o'clock at midnight, the last street light in the old street went out.
Lin Shen kept holding the tweezers in his hand.
He squinted his eyes, aimed at a hairspring thinner than a hair in the clock movement, and breathed as low as possible.
There are more than a hundred parts spread out on the table, and copper gears are stacked into hills. Volatile clock oil pierces the nose, carrying a smell of rust caused by metal bites.
The white man squatted on the edge of the lampshade, his gray-white feathers dyed orange by the warm light, and his claws clasped the iron sheet, making a slight creaking sound.
It tilted its head and stared at Lin Shen's fingers, and suddenly said:
"There's a knock on the door in three seconds."
Lin Shen shook his hand, and the tip of the tweezers slipped out of the hairspring, scraping a white mark on the copper plate.
"Can you..."
"Bang, bang,
