Chapter 7

After roughly organizing his thoughts, Jialong no longer dwelled on them. He took off his clothes, turned off the kerosene lamp, lay down on the bed, and gently pulled the blanket over himself, gradually calming down and falling asleep in the darkness.

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Clang... Clang... The morning bell rang one after another.

Bright light shone on the white bed, and Jialong, who had been sleeping on his back, slowly opened his eyes. He looked out dazedly, took a deep breath, and then slowly pulled back the blanket and sat up.

In the pale pink room, the red wooden boards on the walls and floor had some areas that were peeling, revealing the light yellow wood underneath. The silver-framed oil painting of a wheat field on the wall was slightly tilted. The right window was half-open, and cold wind kept blowing in, making a faint whistling sound.

Thump... Thump...

The sound of his sister Ying'er's footsteps could be faintly heard from the living room outside, each step on the floor clearly audible.

Jialong rubbed his temples, clearing his mind, and got out of bed. He was wearing a grayish-white pajama set, with long sleeves and pants, the chest area somewhat loose and baggy. He tugged at the fabric over his chest, a hint of helplessness on his face.

"I never noticed before, but it feels strange to still be wearing Mom's pajamas..."

He walked to the window and gently closed the open window.

Below the window, to the right was the inner street of the neighborhood, where a few passersby were wearing thick windbreakers, one of them with a round cap and a scarf. To the left, behind the buildings, there were more cars parked than usual, all black or white, with headlights that looked like goldfish eyes, resembling antique cars.

"These cars look nice, but in reality, they probably have to stop and cool down every few dozen miles..." Jialong shook his head speechlessly, sniffed, and smelled the strong aroma of fried eggs and hot milk.

He left the window, walked to the bedroom door, and gently turned the doorknob, revealing the spacious red living room. On the right, the yellow and white curtains were being blown by the wind from outside.

On the left, he could see directly into the kitchen, where Ying'er was carefully flipping the fried eggs with a black spatula. She had changed into a black, waist-cinched short dress with a white lace hem at the bottom, and her legs were covered in the thickest black tights that hid her skin color. Her dark purple hair was casually draped over her shoulders, and her wine-red eyes were focused on the eggs in the pan.

"Are you up? Go wash up, and then you can come over for breakfast. I bought fresh white bread, along with fried eggs and hot milk," Ying'er said casually, glancing at Jialong.

"Aren't they coming back?" Jialong rubbed his face with both hands, feeling the oil on them. He walked a few steps forward, turned left, and entered the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror and turning on the faucet.

Splash...

White water gushed from the faucet. Jialong grabbed his red towel, wet it, wrung it out, and pressed it to his face.

"Didn't I tell you last time? There's something at the company, and they're on a business trip," Ying'er replied casually.

"Do you know where they went?"

"Seems like they went to Delin City... It's a long train ride from here. It takes at least three days to get there. Round trip..."

"It'll be about a week before they come back, so we'll have to spend this weekend on our own," she said, sitting down and arranging the bread, milk, and fried eggs on the table. "Okay, you can eat now."

Jialong quickly rinsed his mouth, put the wooden toothbrush back in the cup, and turned out of the bathroom, sitting across from Ying'er.

At the rectangular red wooden table, the two sat facing each other. In front of them, on silver metal plates, were triangular pieces of pale yellow bread, with tiny letters on them.

Jialong picked up his knife and fork, held the bread with one hand, and cut off a piece, putting it directly in his mouth. It was a bit hard, a bit dry, and had a very light sweetness, almost powdery.

Ying'er, on the other hand, took a sip of milk. "It's Saturday today. Do you have any plans?"

"Um... I'm going to the old street in the south of the city, Bainington. There's a new antique shop there that I want to check out," Jialong said, lowering his head to eat the fried eggs.

"Bainington is quite far... From our Blue Tree Street, you have to go through the city center and then walk for another half an hour to get there, almost in a diagonal. What are you going to the antique shop for?" Ying'er asked, puzzled. "If it's not something important, I want to go to the fruit market and the pet street nearby. Can you come with me and help me carry things?" She glanced at Jialong, a hint of anticipation in her eyes.

"To buy some of my favorite white pears," she added quickly.

"White pears?" Jialong was slightly taken aback; the Jialong from before also loved white pears. "I'll pass. I have something to do at the antique shop."

"Okay..." Ying'er nodded, not saying more, and focused on her food.

"By the way, it's autumn now. Be careful with your clothes, so you don't get sick," Jialong added, finishing the rest of his food in a few bites and drinking the last of the milk in his cup. "I'm leaving now." He stood up and went back to the bedroom to change.

Ying'er sat at the table, watching Jialong get up, feeling a bit dejected. She poked at the bread on her plate absentmindedly.

Jialong came out wearing a thick black coat and dark blue pants, with a black and white checkered scarf around his neck. He no longer looked as thin and weak as before, and there was a hint of a delicate young man's charm about him. However, his eyes were too deep, like two dark, pure red gems, connecting to an infinite abyss, completely different from before.

The change in his eyes made Jialong's demeanor much more mature and substantial.

Ying'er looked up, her eyes brightening. "How long do you plan to be gone? When will you be back?"

Jialong tugged at the scarf around his neck. "I'll definitely be back for dinner. I'm leaving now."

He walked to the door, put on his black leather boots, and opened the door, stepping out.

The door across the hallway was open, and a middle-aged man with glasses, carrying a black bag, turned to look at him but said nothing, entering and closing the door quietly without greeting him. Jialong remembered this neighbor, the middle-aged man with glasses named Boris, who lived alone with a seven- or eight-year-old boy. Both were quiet and never greeted anyone, only exchanging a brief greeting when Jialong and his family first moved in. This lack of politeness left a lasting impression on Jialong's family.

Jialong held the cold metal door handle, gently closed it, and rubbed his hands, feeling them warm up a bit before walking down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned left, walking along the gray and white checkered floor, entering the gray-black road between the black streetlights.

Exiting the neighborhood, the street was lined with earth-yellow buildings, with black railings protecting the sidewalks, which had few pedestrians.

A vintage car was slowly passing, emitting white smoke, followed by a yellow ox cart, the driver occasionally shouting and whipping the ox.

Jialong walked along the sidewalk, surrounded by black railings, observing the earth-yellow buildings.

The buildings on the street were about seven stories tall, with square windows, some open and some closed with iron grilles. The edges of the buildings were rounded, with no sharp corners.

The cold autumn wind blew Jialong's hair back, and he lowered his head, feeling his skin stiff and numb. Small trees were planted inside the black railings, their branches bare and forked, with one tree every few meters.

Jialong continued walking along the sidewalk for about twenty minutes, and the number of cars and people on the street increased. A brass plaque on a passing building read "Garden Street."

At a crossroads, he turned left again, and the buildings on both sides of the street became elaborate, with gray and white patterns, tall columns, and intricate carvings. The black streetlights on both sides had white spherical decorations at the top.

On the cold sidewalk, a woman in a thick white dress with silver trim was walking her dog. On a black metal bench, two old men with canes were chatting quietly.

Jialong tightened his scarf and looked up at the building on the left. On the fifth floor of the gray and white building was his uncle's home. Their admission to Saint Lark College was largely due to his uncle's influence.

This uncle had built a strong business from scratch and was one of the wealthiest businessmen in Huai Mountain City. What was rare was that he had always been very kind to Jialong, though he was somewhat cold to Ying'er, perhaps due to a preference for boys or blood ties.

"I'll visit Uncle on the way back..." Jialong lowered his head and quickened his pace, heading toward the end of the gray and white building street.

A brass square plaque stood by the sidewalk, reading "Bainington."

At the end of the street was a round corner, and right at the corner was a small shop with an arched door. The door was open, and inside, a pale yellow light shone. An old man with glasses sat in front of an antique yellow bookshelf, intently examining a small object with a magnifying glass.

Jialong glanced up at the right, where a triangular black plaque hung on the gray and white wall, reading "Dolphin Antique Shop" in white letters.

He walked straight in, looked around the shop.

Under the dim yellow light, the small antique shop was empty of customers.

The entire shop was a deep red, with tables of various sizes, about a dozen in total. The walls and tables were covered with thick dark red fabric, on which were placed various odd and curious items.

Jialong's footsteps echoed on the dark yellow wooden floor. As soon as he entered, he was startled to see someone to his right. Upon closer inspection, it was a white half-body statue of a curly-haired child, only the shoulders and head visible, the lower part formed by a rectangular stone pillar.

"Can I help you with anything?" The old man's skin was grayish-yellow, with black age spots and wrinkles. Seeing Jialong enter, he put down his magnifying glass and asked in a low voice.

"I'll just look around..." Jialong, startled, quickly replied, "You don't need to attend to me. I'm just browsing."