Capital City.
Evening, exactly eleven o'clock.
The preeminent ancient capital, filled with an intertwining sense of history and modernity.
From Wanchun Pavilion, overlooking the distance, you can see the golden glazed tiles of the Imperial Palace to the south, shrouded in a faint mist, the White Tower to the west resembling a white jade bottle, and the tall buildings of Olympic Village to the north.
Pa!
On a dimly lit street, a man holding a wooden box gradually emerges, extinguishing a cigarette end.
By the weak light, you can see that the ashtray beside the trash can is stuffed with cigarette butts, and two empty cigarette boxes are littered on the ground.
The entire street is shrouded in smoke, reminiscent of the smog-covered Capital City from four or five years ago.
"Old friend, do you still miss me?"
Even in the silent corner, the man's footsteps make no sound, as if merging with the darkness.
A few minutes later.
