Running back from Jiangbin Park to Old Factory Street is about seven or eight kilometers.
For Fang Cheng now, this journey is nothing more than a somewhat lengthy walk.
He purposely slowed down, holding a heavy oil paper bag, yet still seemed to fly briskly,
inside the bag were freshly made fried buns.
Fang Cheng bought these on the way at a famous old shop, with thin skin and large filling, and a crispy bottom.
His mom used to love eating these, but later on, she became busy with making a living, so she didn't eat them often.
It was already around 7:30, and Old Factory Street was fully awake.
The narrow street was mostly occupied by various breakfast stalls.
The fried dough sticks rolled and expanded in the hot oil pan, the white buns steamed in the basket, and there were freshly cooked sticky rice chicken and douhua too.
The steaming aroma intertwined, making people's fingers twitch with hunger.
