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“These foxes don’t talk at all!”
“They’re just ordinary wild foxes from the mountains,” Song You replied casually. “If they could talk, that would make them fox demons.”
“Then can they play the qin?”
“If they can’t even talk, they definitely can’t play the qin.”
“They’re not very smart!”
“How could they compare to you, Lady Calico?”
“Do they at least play with their own tails?”
“You should ask them yourself.”
At that moment, the two of them—one tall and one small—were sitting at a roadside stall. On the table before them were two bowls of vibrant green tofu, each with a wooden spoon. A swallow perched on the edge of the table, standing nearby.
The vendor at the stall continued calling out loudly, “Greeeeen leaaaaf tofu[1]...”
The first two words were drawn out in a high-pitched tone, while the last two were spoken sharply and crisply. The call was rhythmic, distinct, and full of character—an example of a street vendor’s wisdom in attracting customers.
Perhaps, for many people, this sound would one day become a nostalgic memory.
“Hmm…”
The little girl stopped her questioning, lowered her head, and began stabbing at the tofu in her bowl with her spoon—poking and mashing it into a messy pulp. Only after mixing it thoroughly with the seasoning did she scoop some into her mouth.
She frowned. It didn’t taste good. So, she turned her head and asked the swallow if it wanted any.
Naturally,...
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