"Girl, this spinach is very fresh, have some."
Fang Xiaohui suddenly looked up.
She saw the face of Brother Yong in the weak light, under the face of an elderly woman wearing a headscarf and hunched over.
Fang Xiaohui almost screamed.
Brother Yong gave her a look, "Girl, this spinach is really fresh, fifty cents a bunch, not expensive at all."
Pitifully, he handed a bunch of spinach to Fang Xiaohui.
Fang Xiaohui pretended to be impatient and picked through it.
"This isn't fresh at all. These are the leftovers from this morning, all wilted and limp, and you're still selling it for fifty cents a bunch."
She lowered her voice, "What's going on? Why are you dressed like this, and there's a man following me over there?"
Fang Xiaohui sensed trouble.
"Girl, these are grown by us country folk ourselves. They're really not expensive, they're all good stuff."
