Some people say that missing a city often starts from one street. And in the old street of Xinyong in Fuchuan, the warmest old times are hidden. It is like an old yellowed book, with every page filled with stories. It is like a pot of warm aged wine, with every sip concealing the mellow aroma of time.

The stove fire shines on the sky and earth, red stars twinkle, and purple smoke rises. Master Huang's blacksmith shop has been open for over forty years. Now, the blacksmithing work has been handed over to his son. "Nowadays, some people think of replacing things before they are even broken."

Not far away, the uncle's barber shop is like a time station. With the creaking of the wooden chairs and the falling of his temples, stories are hidden in the teeth of his comb.

The barbecued pork noodle shops along the street are the most comforting. The crackling sound of the wood-burning stoves fills the air, and a bowl of steaming hot barbecued pork noodles is the most ordinary and lively atmosphere of this old street.

This crispy bite turns the dawn and dusk of the old street into a lingering taste on the tip of the tongue. Homesickness always touches the heartstrings unexpectedly. People in Fuchuan love this kind. The most tempting is the rice noodle.

Look, time has tied a knot on this old street. Some sounds and some smells will never be forgotten.

If you also have memories of Xinyong Old Street, please write your story in the comment section. Or, find some leisure time and take a walk in the old street again. Listening to the wind pass through the alleys and watching the light slant up the brick walls, you will find that some places, once gone far away, can never leave your heart.