CHAPTER 269: CHAPTER 80: THE MYSTERIOUS OLD MAN

When the fireworks soared, the crowd’s noise also reached its zenith.

Su Ziceng screamed along, as the New Year spirits danced in the night sky, their size burgeoning in people’s eyes.

After the firework show, the crowd remained large. Su Ziceng was not in a hurry to get up, but instead sat down and began to chat with an elderly man. In a great city like Bianjing City, the man’s age placed him as quite senior. From the older generation, one could always find out some unusual news.

"Elder, how come your family didn’t come with you?" asked Su Ziceng curiously. The old man looked frail but moved with surprising agility, not even bringing a cane when he went out.

"On New Year’s Eve, I sent the housekeeper home for the festival, and staying home alone with the food warm and the house cold seemed pointless," the old man’s thought process was clear, but his tone revealed a sense of loneliness.

Spending the festival accompanied by a housekeeper indicated yet another pitiful elderly person with unfilial children, thought Su Ziceng. "I’m alone too. How about I take you to celebrate the New Year," she offered. After she spoke, the old man laughed heartily.

"Little girl, you want to take me to celebrate the New Year? Bianjing City is my territory. Come on, wasn’t that a satisfying fireworks show? These years, the government is getting stingier. With all sorts of messy constructions, the fireworks are less appealing. I’ll take you somewhere lively to witness how the real old Bianjing City people celebrate the festival," the elder stated with an air of immense pride.

Upon saying that, without waiting for Su Ziceng’s consent, the elder strode confidently towards an exit of People’s Square, chest puffed and legs firm. Once away from the corner, Su Ziceng felt the cold biting from the tip of her nose down to the soles of her feet.

Being away from home intensified the homesickness, and Su Ziceng thought that the winter in Mo City wasn’t this hard to endure. The crowd had thinned out a bit, but each exit was still crowded. The old man led the way in front, and Su Ziceng, thanks to her petite stature, weaved through the crowd, and when reaching the exit, the military personnel maintaining order saluted.

Su Ziceng glanced at the crowd and didn’t notice anything unusual. She had forgotten that Bianjing City was the seat of the emperor, the location of the central government. Just drop a signboard and it could hit a bureau-level official; an ordinary face in the crowd might belong to some high-ranking official.

She followed the stream of people out, surrounded by rows of neatly arranged poplar trees. The elder was already at the corner ahead. Su Ziceng felt embarrassed that she couldn’t keep up with a ninety-year-old man’s pace and hurriedly jogged to catch up.

"The snow makes the roads slippery; watch your step," the old man advised, but it was too late. Su Ziceng’s shoes couldn’t grip the snow, and she slid straight out like a curling stone on ice, luckily stopped by the stone wall ahead.

"Look at how this old man walks," said the elder, his feet in a pair of knee-high, thick military boots. He walked with a slight pigeon-toe, a somewhat comical posture, but each step he took left firm and solid footprints.

Su Ziceng walked a few steps, imitating the straight march of a soldier, and felt warmth in her heart, speeding her steps.

As it turned out, following an old Bianjing City local was an entirely different concept than haphazardly hailing a taxi.

In the past few days, Su Ziceng had traversed half of Bianjing City but had never seen a scene quite like this. The year had just begun, and the street called "Liushu Alley" was packed with people, despite the deep of winter. The people wore colorful jackets, children held fireworks, and on both sides, tea houses bursting with light and loud calls for tea and seats lined the street.

"Have you tried the big bowl tea?" the elder walked into a tea house, just as the previous group left. The tea master deftly cleared the tea bowls and fruit peels, and with a scraper, polished the rosewood table until it gleamed.

"No," Su Ziceng responded, herself not fond of tea, much less savoring it in a tea house.

The tea house was called "Xianfeng," possibly because the owner was a fan of Lu Xun’s Xianfeng Restaurant that attracted a diverse clientele. However, this tea house only sold tea, not alcohol. In addition to this, they offered Guangdong shrimp dumplings, Jinwei Donkey Kick treats, both sweet and savory, with or without skin, leaving Su Ziceng’s mouth greasy.