There was an old bridge ahead.
A few trees at the bridgehead provided shade, and Zhou Li sat on the bluestone railing beneath them. The shops across were sparsely populated, likely because most people couldn't bear the ultraviolet rays at that time of day.
But an old man in worn clothes sat on the curb outside one of the shops, a carrying pole with green vegetables resting beside him, the sunlight shining just before his feet.
No one was buying his vegetables.
He just sat there, passing the long afternoon.
He had no mobile phone, no one to talk to.
The old man's face was dark and deeply wrinkled. He squinted at something in front of him. As the sunlight gradually crept higher, he put on a straw hat, and his entire face was then enveloped in its shadow.
Truthfully, there wasn't much to see ahead, just the road.
For a moment, Zhou Li really wanted to know what the old man was thinking. Had he looked like this when he was young? Did he often sit this way?
