Although they went for a walk last night, they didn't get back until 9 o'clock. They closed their eyes to sleep before 10 o'clock, so they woke up around 7 o'clock and weren't sleepy at all.
After taking a quick shower in the bathroom with a kettle of hot water, Ke Meiyu applied toner, lotion, and BB cream to her face, tied her hair into a bun, and changed into a white short-sleeved dress with red floral print and white sandals. She looked youthful and stylish.
Ying Yan had already bought breakfast: soy milk, fried dough sticks, steamed buns, and sweet cakes, which filled half the table.
After the couple finished eating, they went out hand in hand. The door to the small house opened with a click, and Ying Jiawen, dressed in new clothes, peeked out. Seeing that no one was there, she quickly grabbed her bag and left.
Ying Yan told Ke Meiyu about his past in Kyoto, going through the events from his earliest memories in a chronological order. This was partly to help his wife understand him better, and partly to satisfy her curiosity.
They had just arrived in Kyoto and didn't have any transportation. In the past, the towns were small, and even when they arrived in the provincial capital, they could only wander around the university area and ride bicycles.
But once you get here, the bicycle's usefulness diminishes drastically.
Just like today, they are going to meet at the place Curly mentioned.
When Ying Yan was still in Kyoto, they would usually have breakfast and then gather at the Cultural Palace next to the Four Great Academies.
The journey from Yingjia to the Cultural Palace spans a quarter of the city, taking an hour or so by bus, and requiring one transfer.
The bus was rather old, with rust marks from peeling paint on its surface, and the windows rattled as it moved. People relied on the same mode of transportation, so the bus was crowded, packed tightly together in the sweltering heat. The smells were a mixed bag: chive pancakes, meat buns, onions and garlic, sweat, foot odor, body odor, bad breath, and some people even vomited from motion sickness.
You could say that taking a bus ride is a kind of test.
Standing at the bus stop, seeing the situation and smelling the faint odor wafting down from above, Ke Meiyu refused to take the bus no matter what.
Ying Yan was also reluctant. This time, it was just a minor disturbance, not something for him and his wife to be bothered.
So he made a phone call, and not long after, a young man dressed in work clothes for applying engine oil arrived on a motorcycle with a sidecar.
When I saw them from afar, I waved my hand and was very happy.
He jumped out of the car, and immediately started laughing as he went to hug Ying Yan.
Ying Yan kicked the man away with disdain, but his expression was relaxed and even carried a hint of joy and pleasure. "You're getting more and more slovenly. It's been so many years since I last saw you, and you still can't tidy yourself up before meeting me?"
"I just couldn't wait a moment longer, could I?" The young man chuckled and scratched his head. "The brothers all listened to you and settled down with good jobs. We've been waiting for you to come back, Ninth Master."
"Is this your sister-in-law? Hello, I'm Fang Jinyuan," he said, looking at Ke Meiyu and then at Ying Yan, his smile widening. "Brother, I won't bother you two any longer. Have a few days of fun, and we'll get together again when we have time."
"Take this bike for fun. I assembled it out of scrap parts when I had nothing else to do. Don't let the fact that it's assembled and made from parts salvaged from other places fool you; this bike is top-notch, durable, powerful, and responsive!"
As he spoke, he tossed a bunch of keys to Ying Yan, saying, "Your sister-in-law's helmet is in the truck bed; it's new."
"Thanks, I'll ride this for now," Ying Yan said without hesitation. "I'll come find you another day and get you a bike too. Cars are too conspicuous, but motorcycles are fine."
Fang Jinyuan nodded with a smile. He was stunned to see Ninth Master, who never cared about women, personally putting a helmet on someone.
The motorcycle was military green, and the cargo bed even had a windshield. It was the first time Ke Meiyu had ever ridden on such a motorcycle, and she found it very novel.
Ying Yan smiled and said, "Hold on tight," before starting the engine and speeding away.
The wind whistled past their ears, and the engine was quite loud. Both of them were wearing helmets, so they remained mostly silent the whole way.
Ke Meiyu looked around, finding everything fascinating.
When she was reborn, every place she visited evoked a strong sense of the era.
Especially Kyoto. She used to fly there and back a lot. In her memory, Kyoto was colorful and vibrant, with all kinds of people coming and going and vehicles lined up one after another. But now there are not so many tall buildings. Everywhere is solemn and clean. People are gray, white, blue and black. Occasionally, bright colors are like flowers sprouting on the grass, enough to capture the attention of the whole street.
With a swift movement, Ying Yan parked the car in a large courtyard.
The Cultural Palace, which is practically the exclusive entertainment venue for the four large courtyards, is nothing more than a large two-story building with plenty of open space and fitness facilities in front and behind it.
There are already quite a few gleaming, uniquely designed motorcycles parked there.
Someone saw Ying Yan arrive through the car window, quickly stood up, smiled, and patted him on the shoulder gently. "Ying Yan! Long time no see, you haven't changed a bit."
Indeed, several people who came out of the door shared the same sentiment.
It had been five years since we last met, and everyone present had changed a lot.
To be precise, the situation in Kyoto was changing day by day, and no one was living a comfortable life. The originally simple relationships gradually became mixed with too many interests. Only Ying Yan managed to escape. Although he returned, he was no longer as glorious as before, but his carefree, nonchalant, and fearless demeanor remained unchanged.
Ying Yan nodded lightly, greeted everyone, and put his arm around Ke Meiyu's shoulder as they entered the house.
There were still a few people sitting still inside. When they saw him arrive, they gave him a lazy, forced smile.
The others who followed them into the room had mixed feelings, as if their positions and treatment had been reversed.
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