Xie Yanbai strolled into the alley. His appearance was unremarkable, his clothes were plain, and he had reined in his aura completely. Not a single person on the street recognized him.
He seemed quite familiar with the area. After winding through several turns, he arrived at a house.
The house was rather dilapidated, especially its red door. Much of the vermilion paint had peeled away, exposing the dark wood beneath. The pair of brass rings on the door lent the house an antique charm. Houses built in this old-fashioned style had enjoyed a brief vogue some forty years ago. But doors like these offered practically no protection, and they had soon been replaced by the newly emerging automatic doors with passcodes.
With the ease of an old visitor, Xie Yanbai stepped forward and banged hard on the brass rings.
"Who is it?" a man called from inside.
With a creak, the wooden door opened.
A middle-aged man appeared before Xie Yanbai. He wore an ash-gray jacket over a white shirt, and a pair of black-framed glasses covered almost half his square face. From any angle, he looked every inch the scholar.
"Zhengqiu, you're still the same. You haven't changed much," Xie Yanbai said with a smile.
"Oh! Yanbai, when did you get back?" the middle-aged man asked in delighted surprise.
Xie Yanbai sounded a little helpless. "Surely everyone knows I'm back by now."
The middle-aged man laughed. "I've been designing a new war game lately. It's not finished yet. You know how it is-if I don't put out something new, I don't eat."
His slightly self-mocking laugh carried the weathered openness of someone who had seen much of life. It left Xie Yanbai with an ache in his heart.
"You're making a living designing war games?" Xie Yanbai followed him