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The two of them were shoulder-to-shoulder, and there was only the smell of smoke in the air.

Ye Jingshu watched Shi Jing's back disappear at the end of the corridor, then turned around and continued walking out.

The door of the gendarmerie closed slowly behind him, making a dull sound.

Pushing open the heavy iron door, the cold wind in the late winter morning blew across my face like a knife.

Ye Jingshu couldn't help but narrowed her eyes.

The winter sun was a bit dazzling. She stood on the steps and did not take a step immediately.

The white breath exhaled dispersed in the morning light and slowly gathered again.

She took a deep breath of the air outside, and the cold air filled her lungs.

But it carries with it a fresh breath that belongs to the human world that has not been seen for a long time.

The street outside the gendarmerie was awake.

At a crossroads not far away, a stall selling hot soy milk and fried dough sticks was propped up on the vent.

The soy milk in the big iron pot was tumbling, sending up large tracts of thick white mist.

The burnt aroma mixed with fried pasta entered her nostrils unceremoniously.

"Boss, how can soy milk be so light now? Don't be stingy and give me half a spoonful of sugar!"

An old lady wearing a shabby cotton-padded jacket rubbed her hands and slapped the copper plate on the chopping board.

"Oh, my old grandma!

Nongdang candy is gold?Nowadays, prices vary every day, and half a spoonful of sugar is already considered cheap!

If you want something sweet, go to the alley and scoop up well water!"

The stall owner spoke back without raising his head while skillfully stirring the large iron pot with a long-handled spoon.

"You're an iron rooster! Forget it, I'll earn two copper coins from you, and I'll go back home and add salt!"

Grandma took the hot paper bowl, brought it to her mouth, blew on it, took a careful sip, and let out a contented sigh.

A rickshaw passed the gendarmerie steps.

The driver shrank his neck, and his heavy breathing turned into clouds of white mist in the cold air.

The wheels rolled over the bluestone, making a grunting sound.

"Give way! Give way! Uncle in front, please retract your paws so that you don't run over my wheel!"

The coachman shouted at the top of his lungs as he ran.

Someone was hurrying along carrying a pole, and the vegetables on both ends of the pole were still covered with white frost.

No one gave her a second glance.

In this late winter morning, everyone was running for survival as if nothing had happened.

Ye Jingshu stood on the steps, listening quietly to these noisy Shanghai dialects with a strong nasal accent.

She felt the heat greedily, feeling the noisy, crowded, but extremely real smoke of fireworks.

She clenched her hands in her coat pockets, feeling the warmth from her fingertips.

Afterwards, she didn't look back.

He took a step forward, facing the biting cold wind of late winter, and walked towards the apartment.

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