This time, the reunion with an old acquaintance happened in a town off the main path, not right in the center of the bustling city.
This was a Western Region town, full of its own unique charm.
The sky here was bluer than anywhere in the Central Plains or Jiangnan.
Clouds rolled and curled, and in the distance, the shadows of mountains and ravines were faintly visible.
The townsfolk had laid out baskets full of dried fruits and dates, hawking their goods.
The scent of oil and lamb skewers wafted through the air, mingling with the faint crackling of burning coals, stirring the hungry minds of all who passed by.
In this bustling trade hub of the city, people had gathered, forming a large circle.
More and more curious onlookers kept arriving.
In the past, people gathered here for caravans from the Central Plains, bearing silk and porcelain, or for masters of hidden arts and tricks, or perhaps freshly grilled meat skewers still sizzling with juices.
But today was different.
At the center of the crowd lay a worn felt mat, its edges curled.
Seated there was an old man from the Central Plains, a Western Region huqin resting on his lap.
He skillfully played the instrument, the melody lively and rhythmic.