A Vida Próspera no Siheyuan

It had been a week since he arrived in this world.

Duan Chengliang was still not fully accustomed to the biting cold of Beijing in 1958. He hunched his shoulders and rubbed his hands together, but the tattered cotton coat and trousers he wore seemed incapable of blocking the wind; the chill seeped through, worming its way into his bones.

Since last night, snow had been falling without pause, drifting steadily from the sky. The alleyways were blanketed in thick snow, making passage difficult. Despite his utmost caution, Duan Chengliang still slipped from time to time on the icy paths.

He turned into the Nanluoguxiang alley, wider than the previous one. The ground here was slightly elevated and, with more people coming and going, a convenient path had already been trodden down the center, making it easier to walk. To avoid soaking his cotton shoes, Duan Chengliang carefully chose his steps, sticking as much as possible to the middle.

Behind him came the ringing of a bicycle bell, accompanied by loud shouts: "Hey, hey, make way up ahead! The road’s slippery and I can’t stop! If I hit you, it’s not my fault!"

Judging by the commotion, the bicycle was moving fast, and from the sound, it was right behind him. Duan Chengliang quickly spotted a place by the roadside where he could step, and with a small leap, dodged aside just in time.

Almost simultaneously, a bicycle, its bell clanging, sped past him.

Xu Damao, already past, turned his head and curled his lip, grinning at Duan Chengliang. "You’ve got a bad habit, walking