Mid-August, 1981, Xijing.
Listening to the clamor along the street and smelling the everyday bustle all around him, a young man stepped off a bus, humming a little tune.
He had stiff, short hair, thick brows dark as ink, and a tall, powerfully built frame. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, baring two lean, solid forearms that looked cast from bronze and iron. His eyes were especially striking, their blacks and whites extraordinarily distinct, a divine radiance seeming to flow through them whenever he glanced around, giving off a soul-stirring gleam. Unlike the imposing presence he had possessed when he first returned to the city, perhaps because he had spent so much time reading recently, the sharpness in his features had softened considerably. His edge was concealed, his skin had grown fairer, and he had acquired a faintly scholarly air.
In the sunlight, a tiny scarlet mole could also be seen between his brows. As he walked, he stood out like a crane among chickens, drawing plenty of open and surreptitious glances.
Strangely enough, in this scorching weather, everyone else was drenched in sweat, yet the young man walked briskly, with barely any perspiration on his face, and slipped into an alley in a flash.
As he headed home, he came upon a plump, middle-aged woman sitting in the shade beneath an overhead grapevine. She held a wedge of watermelon in one hand and waved a palm-leaf fan with the other. Beside her, two children in split-crotch pants were taking their afternoon nap on a reclining chair.
Seeing the young man return, the woman suddenly froze, staring straight at him.
Her reaction made the young man pause too, but then he caught something out of the corner of his eye. His expression abruptly changed, and he hurriedly called out, "Aunt