Whose Flying Horse Lane? At the time, it seemed only ordinary.
"Little girl, little girl, off to school today."
Dawn pierced a corner of the clouds, falling on a tiny figure hopping along.
She had two uneven braids, one big and one small. Still, it was much better than the past few days, when she could not braid even one properly and it came undone halfway down the road.
Luckily, the little girl was pretty. Even such ugly braids could not diminish her cuteness.
She held a small fried dough stick in her left hand and a little meat bun in her right, taking a bite from the left and then from the right as she skipped along. Every now and then, she even sang a line or two.
Behind her followed a stern-faced youth. A sword hung at his waist, and a bulging book bag hung from his chest. In his left hand, he carried a bowl of mutton soup; in his right, a spotless oil-paper bag partitioned into sections: fried dough sticks on the left, meat buns in the middle, and pancakes on the right. There was quite a variety, though none of it was in much quantity.
He looked refined and gentle, but his expression was fierce. From time to time, he said, "Eat faster. You'll be late."
Jiang An'an smacked away happily, nodding hard to show that she understood and was not being impatient.
The uncles and aunties running breakfast stalls along the road all smiled at her.
"An'an, off to school?"
"Come here, An'an. Freshly made fried dumplings—have two on the house."
"Little An'an, how about a bowl of chicken noodle soup?"
Jiang An'an was a girl of great resolve. She shook her braids as she refused, marching forward with all her might... but the