Chapter 155

Some walk wrapped in the cloak of night, while others descend draped in the morning sun. Brilliant sunlight poured down, and the flagstone street of Liulichang Avenue seemed gilded with gold. A rickshaw clattered over the bluestones, the puller in front sweating profusely as he holstered and shouted at the top of his lungs. In truth, rickshaws were quite rare in this era; practically every household settled in Beijing had a private car, and these pullers merely sold a sense of nostalgia while hauling out-of-town tourists. Yet nostalgia was expensive, and generally only clueless foreign greenhorns were willing to foot the bill. Today, the puller exerted himself with exceptional vigor because the clueless foreign greenhorn in the back seat had been extraordinarily generous!