The noonday sunlight penetrated through the lush crowns of camphor trees lining the old street, casting dappled shadows that danced on the cobblestone road.
In Wanghu Town, every meal time, a rare urban atmosphere of earthy life would rise and drift into households along the alleys.
In Fang Cheng's blue-tiled, white-walled, antique-like courtyard, it was a scene of bustling activity.
The kitchen's sliding door was open, and the range hood emitted a low hum.
The iron pot on the stovetop was extremely hot, Fang Cheng's wrist turned, the iron spoon made a crisp sound on the rim of the pot.
The moment hot oil met with scallions, ginger, and garlic, a rich aroma exploded with a sizzle.
Following that were slices of pork belly, cut evenly thick and thin, thrown in the pot, curling and turning golden brown with the frying.
Today, he was wearing a simple plain white short-sleeve shirt with a gray cotton apron tied around his waist.
