Jiulipu is not actually a town market.
There are sparse houses in front of the jujube forest, with branches and leaves of Chinese chrysanthemum trees sticking out from the walls, buffaloes lying beside the weedy yellow mud path, and a few ducks floating in the ditch on the roadside. The only thing that is slightly conspicuous is the green flag wine curtain raised next to the post road, with four big white characters on it, Jiuli Inn.
Jiulipu is just a resting place on the dusty official post road. The old innkeeper died, and a new innkeeper came from nowhere, and life continued like this day by day.
The new innkeeper is a handsome man in his thirties, with a thin build and a slight limp in one leg, but he doesn't look like an innkeeper. When I sit at the table at the entrance of the inn and quietly watch the guests in the store, I am always mistaken by the new guests for ordinary drinkers. Jiulipu is a small place with not many customers. I don't know whose idea it was to open an inn here. The business can barely survive. The house has been in a state of decay since there has been no money for repairs for a long time. However, the new shopkeeper was just as kind as the old shopkeeper. The villagers were in short supply of firewood, rice, oil and salt, and would never refuse if they asked for money or credit. Therefore, the Jiuli Inn may not be useful for the post road, but it has become indispensable for several nearby village households.
Conception: