His heart slammed against his chest. Shen Yuxing sprang to his feet and bolted toward the post office entrance.
The alley was narrow, and the breakfast stalls' tables and chairs took up most of the sidewalk. He turned sideways to squeeze between a pot of frying dough sticks and a stack of steamers, hot soy milk steam washing over his face.
Finally emerging from that white cloud of steam, Shen Yuxing pushed open the post office door and rushed inside, stopping the man just as he reached for a queue ticket.
"Brother-"
The word caught in his throat.
The man turned around, revealing a completely unfamiliar face, with high cheekbones, an old scar at the end of one eyebrow, and skin darkened by the sun.
He frowned as he looked the boy up and down, his gaze suggesting he was looking at an obstacle in his way.
"Who are you?"
Shen Yuxing's fingers were still gripping the man's sleeve. He opened his mouth, but it took him a long moment to squeeze out a few words. "Sorry. I mistook you for someone else."
The man impatiently yanked his sleeve free, tore a ticket from the machine, and headed for the counter without looking back.
Shen Yuxing stood rooted at the post office entrance. Sunlight fell across his face, clearly illuminating the fleeting blankness in his eyes.
It wasn't Shen Wangjing.
He had watched for over an hour, and everyone entering and leaving the post office had been elderly locals. Only this man in black met all the conditions-arriving at precisely the right time on Saturday morning and heading straight for the money transfer counter.
The man had already reached the counter. He took a wad of crumpled cash from his pocket and said something to the clerk.
Shen Yuxing retreated