yournovel Chapter 30 Walking
Chapter 30 Walking
Chapter 30 Walking
The hands of the European-style wall clock turned slowly, and half an hour passed in the blink of an eye.
Yu Huan placed her phone beside her lap and stretched out a big yawn.
I didn't sleep long enough last night, and I suddenly feel sleepy.
As if infected, Lin Yourong raised her hand to cover her mouth and yawned as well.
She turned to him and said, "Why don't you take a nap first? I need to rest for a bit; I still have singing practice this afternoon."
"Okay." Yu Huan nodded.
Suddenly, the classic ringtone of the fruit phone that Lin Yourong was holding rang.
Yu Huan glanced at it casually and saw the contact person clearly.
He thought to himself, "A debt collector?"
In the blink of an eye, Lin Yourong turned the screen and immediately hung up.
In "A Bite of China," Li Lihong's deep and resonant narration once again rang out from the cell phone in Lin Yourong's hand.
At the same time, Yu Huan felt the phone, which was halfway down her thigh, beep.
He lifted his leg.
An automated voice, barely audible, says: "Sorry, your call has ended—"
At this moment, how could anyone not know who that contact person is?
This note for him...
How embarrassing!
So, in Lin Yourong's eyes, he was this kind of person?
Yu Huan suddenly felt a bit itchy.
Lin Yourong looked calm, but her body was clearly tense.
After considering it for a moment, Yu Huan decided that it was best to pretend he hadn't seen it.
She suddenly realized and pulled her phone out from under her thigh: "Oh, I didn't turn off the phone screen, and I accidentally touched it while it was under my thigh. Luckily, I only called you, Sister Yourong, and didn't call anyone else."
"Ah."
Lin Yourong stared intently at her phone screen.
"To thank you for helping me sell my song, I'll treat you to crayfish tonight!"
"Crayfish? Okay." Lin Yourong added, "And snail rice noodles too."
"no problem!"
She turned off her phone, picked up the page of lyrics from the coffee table, and said in advance, "I'm going to take a half-hour nap."
"I'm going to sleep too."
The two entered the adjacent doors one after the other.
When Yu Huan woke up, she could already hear a faint guitar melody and Lin Yourong's singing:
"It's you, it's you~ All the youth behind me is you~"
"It has depicted my mountains, rivers, and streams~"
"Send me a torrential downpour!"
"Wash away the mud and awaken your true self~"
Amidst the pleasant music, he pulled out his phone from under his pillow and checked the time; it was already 5:16 PM.
They said they would sleep for half an hour, but they didn't set an alarm.
Lie flat.
Four hours passed in the blink of an eye.
He put on a hoodie and pants, then opened the door to the living room.
The singing stopped.
In the dim light of the balcony, Lin Yourong turned to look at him: "Awake?"
Upon hearing this, Yu Huan nodded and then couldn't help but let out a big yawn.
Lin Yourong leaned her guitar against the French windows, a hint of weariness in her eyes, as if she was tired. She got up and slumped onto the sofa.
Suddenly turning to look at Yu Huan, he said slowly and deliberately, as if it were an afterthought:
"This song of yours, is it written for that girl named Yuting?"
"what?"
"We remember each other, our youthful appearances, and the youth behind us is all about you?"
"What Yuting? She doesn't exist!?" Yu Huan shook her head and waved her hands. "I just randomly played a melody first, and then filled in some random lines to make it rhyme!"
"How can such good words be created by forcibly piecing things together?"
Lin Yourong almost had "I don't believe you" written all over her face.
As expected, this situation still occurred.
Yu Huan had a grievance but could not speak out.
She immediately got up and said, "I'm going to change my clothes and get ready to go out," before walking towards the bedroom.
Yu Huan sat on the sofa, took out her phone, and waited for a while. About ten minutes later, Lin Yourong finally opened the door and came out.
He looked up and sized her up.
She wore a loose-fitting linen gray hooded sweatshirt with the neckline slightly open, revealing her slender neck.
A pair of slim-fit jeans brazenly displayed her long, slender yet curvy legs.
He was wearing a dark brown fisherman's hat, the brim pulled low over his eyebrows, casting a shadow. His face was mostly covered by a black cotton mask, revealing only a pair of bright, clear eyes.
He gripped the doorknob with one hand to close the door, while pinching a pair of gray sunglasses between his fingertips with the other.
"Let's go."
Lin Yourong greeted Yu Huan, who was sitting blankly on the sofa.
The reason I'm stuck in this daze is...
It was because Yu Huan was looking at the hooded sweatshirt she was wearing.
It looks like we're wearing matching outfits.
He was dark gray.
She is flaxen gray.
Was it intentional or accidental? (Inner monologue: making the same teeth-gritting expression as the judge)
Rejecting her own thoughts, Yu Huan quickly stood up and slowly followed behind Lin Yourong.
Seeing her bend down and take out a pair of delicate flat leather shoes with bows from the shoe cabinet, she couldn't help but ask, "Sister Yourong, aren't you cold?"
Lin Yourong was changing her shoes sideways, saying without turning her head, "I'm wearing thermal tights."
"Oh."
Yu Huan sat on the shoe stool and glanced at it from the side.
Uh, and it's the white stocking kind.
Suck!
However, he looked away and down at his black cotton shoes, and then he was at a loss.
I was too casual when I bought it; I only cared about its warmth and comfort, and that it wouldn't put pressure on my feet.
But if I were to wear it and walk next to her, it would seem a bit beneath me.
After Lin Yourong bent down to put on her shoes, she turned to look at him and said somewhat jokingly, "What's wrong? Why aren't you putting on your old man's shoes?"
If someone is handsome, they'll look good in anything!
Yu Huan secretly felt certain.
Without changing his expression, he deftly slipped on his shoes and said, "Let's go!"
Before leaving the house, Yu Huan glanced out the window in the entryway.
As the sun sets, the streets are bathed in a soft orange hue. The throngs of cars resemble two long dragons, slowly moving through the twilight.
He then looked away and followed behind Lin Yourong.
The two arrived at the underground parking garage, got into the car, and Yu Huan took the steering wheel and slowly drove the car out of the community.
He already had a plan in mind.
While Lin Yourong was changing clothes, she frantically downloaded several map apps, but couldn't find any snail rice noodles.
Because these days, it's not the time for snail rice noodles to be everywhere.
Finally, after asking around in several university group chats, I learned that there was one in Tongpu Street, not far from the central square.
Confident and composed, Yu Huan asked, "Sister You Rong, would you like to eat snail rice noodles first, or crayfish first?"
Wearing a fisherman's hat, mask, and sunglasses, Lin Yourong turned her head to look at him: "Can't we come together? You can't cook crayfish!"
"Okay!" Yu Huan nodded. "Go pack up the snail rice noodles and take them with you!"
"Hmm." Lin Yourong turned her head to look out the window.
After a 20-minute drive, when we arrived at Tongpu Street, all we could see were rows of mottled walls covered with the character "拆" (demolish).
Yu Huan parked the car at the street corner, and he and Lin Yourong stepped into the street. The cold wind blew through every corner of the old street, and the sunlight slanted across the street, as if coating the demolition signs with a halo.
He suddenly felt a pang of sadness.
In recent years, old streets in Changsha have been demolished in batches, and the vibrant atmosphere of everyday life has disappeared in large numbers.
Tongpu Street intersects with numerous alleyways, forming a network that extends in all directions, though it is less than 100 meters long.
It has a gentle slope.
Because they had to go uphill, and because Yu Huan had a slight problem with her left foot, the two of them moved slowly.
As Yu Huan was looking around and examining the surroundings, she suddenly felt her left arm being lifted up.
Turn around and take a look.
He only noticed that Lin Yourong had somehow moved from his right side to his left side.
His face was completely covered, so you couldn't tell what expression he had: "You can't even walk steadily like this, don't twist your ankle. Let me help you."
Her tone was flat.
Yu Huan's lips twitched slightly, as if her vocal cords had fallen back into place.
A faint smell of wood permeated the streets and alleys, emanating from the old wooden houses on both sides.
The aromas of cooking smoke and stir-fried dishes wafting from restaurants and food stalls, along with the delicate fragrance of rice noodles, all intertwine and fill the air.
Suddenly a strong wind blew, and a unique, almost suffocating stench hit our noses.
It was too strong, completely masking the subtle, everyday flavor of the place.
Passersby covered their mouths and noses, trying to avoid it.
Yu Huan suddenly sniffed, and hurriedly asked with a look of surprise, "Sister Rong, can you smell it?"
"Yeah, it smells like the rotten smell of a trash can on a hot day."
Lin Yourong nodded.
Looking up, I saw a sign for a Liuzhou snail rice noodle shop.
Lin Yourong walked to the door and let go of his hand.
Yu Huan stepped forward.
Inside the shop, three folding wooden tables were scattered around. At one table were a few high school students, at another a young couple, and at yet another a portly, bespectacled man was scrolling through his phone.
The stove was placed in front of the shop.
There was nowhere to sit, so Yu Huan ordered two bowls of snail rice noodles from the proprietress, one bowl with a tiger-skin chicken foot.
Seeing those high school students joking around so enthusiastically, Yu Huan laughed and said, "You guys have to go to class on Saturday? Do you only have Sunday off?"
A short, short boy with a buzz cut turned to look at him: "Yeah, we still have to study tonight."
"Wrong, it's one day off a week, but it's not one day off a week!"
"Half a day off!" the young woman with the bob haircut concluded.
Upon hearing this, Yu Huan switched to a broken Mandarin and said, "What a terrible thing to do."
In some contexts of Xingcheng dialect, "作孽" means "pitiful".
The primary and secondary education in Xingcheng is notoriously rigorous.
Yu Huan shook her head and noticed that Lin Yourong was standing outside, showing no intention of coming in.
We can't just leave her out there all alone.
He then turned around, slowly walked out of the store, and stood with her on the street to enjoy the breeze.
Before we knew it, the sun had set, the sky was dark, and the temperature had dropped a bit.
The cold wind was not only biting but also had a sharp feel to it, causing the two of them to involuntarily shrink their necks, pull their collars tighter, and put their hands in the front pockets of their hoodies.
The movements were synchronized and consistent.
Passersby on the street could tell at a glance that they were a couple.
Hearing the proprietress's call, Yu Huan turned around and went into the shop.
A few moments.
He carried two bowls of snail rice noodles, stacked tightly together in his right hand, while Lin Yourong supported him with her left hand as they slowly descended the slope.
"Why do I get the feeling that you can chat with anyone?"
"Really?" Yu Huan changed the subject: "He's nowhere near as good as your dad. He's a former journalist, very eloquent!"
At the same time, he thought to himself:
"Old Lin is such a social expert, how come Lin Yourong, as his daughter, seems to have some social anxiety?"
Lin Yourong lowered her head and remained silent, as if she had no comment.
Yu Huan quickly changed the subject, saying, "We need to get to the lobster restaurant quickly, otherwise the noodles will get soggy and won't taste good."
Which one?
"Don't ask, I've arranged everything!"
Tongpu Street is only a few minutes' drive from the destination.
I drove along the riverbank until I reached the crossroads in front of the Poet Saint's Pavilion before turning around.
After another hundred meters, Yu Huan parked the car in a parking space on the auxiliary road.
You can see the crowds surging in front of the river pavilion, with groups of people in twos and threes continuously converging on the riverside scenic area.
The traffic is getting denser and denser.
This was an extremely unusual scene on a cold winter night.
Lin Yourong, however, was unsurprised: "There are fireworks to watch tonight?"
“Yes, it’s Saturday.” Yu Huan nodded, carrying the snail rice noodles.
"Oh." Lin Yourong said thoughtfully.
Two years ago, as a capital of engineering machinery and entertainment, Changsha decided to develop tourism into a strategic pillar industry.
Because it has a well-known fireworks base, it is self-sufficient and began to set off large-scale musical fireworks displays every Saturday near the Teachers' Statue on Orange Isle, with each display lasting no less than 20 minutes.
Generous investment, large scale.
Initially, it was held every Saturday, but later, due to various reasons, it was reduced to four times a year, until the pandemic caused it to be suspended throughout the year.
Across from the Poet Saint's Pavilion is the West Lake Bridge, which belongs to Xie Gouhua's territory.
Currently, there has been neither demolition nor upgrading, and the old streets and alleys are still interconnected and crisscrossed.
As one of the busiest and most chaotic urban areas, the red light is still on. Xie Gouhua has been through countless battles in this area.
Yu Huan was also very familiar with this place, and led Lin Yourong to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant at the entrance of Banxiang Street, diagonally opposite the Poet Saint Jiang Pavilion.
In Changsha, many small, unassuming restaurants hidden in the streets and alleys are just as good as those well-known chain restaurants, and may even taste better, while being very affordable.
This is a long-established family-run business. The owner, who is in his late fifties, knows perfectly well that he and his wife will be retiring in three years.
Lin Yourong followed slowly behind Yu Huan.
Before pushing open the glass door, Yu Huan turned back and smiled, "Sister Rong, you won't mind, will you?"
"What are you complaining about?" Lin Yourong, whose face was completely covered, tilted her head, looking adorable.
"forget it……"
Yu Huan stepped over the stairs.
A spicy and savory aroma wafts up.
Lin Yourong turned her head and looked around, sizing her up.
The first thing that catches the eye is the dim lighting, which barely illuminates the small space of just over thirty square meters.
The shop had five simple round tables, all of which were full of people, clinking glasses, laughing and chatting, and talking non-stop.
On the wall hangs a menu with a red background and very faded lettering.
In the semi-open kitchen, through the glass window, you can see a burly man with slightly gray hair flipping a wok.
The sounds of spatulas clashing and food sizzling as it hits the pan create a unique, rustic atmosphere.
The thin-faced proprietress came to greet us.
She had permed waves, dyed her hair brown, and dressed very fashionably.
If Yu Huan hadn't been prescient enough to realize she was nearly fifty, she probably would have thought she was under forty.
Yu Huan immediately smiled and said:
"My phone number ends in 3315. I made a reservation before. Sister, did you reserve a private room for us?"
Two chapters combined into one, mwah!
(End of this chapter)