Qingyuan City.
This city that holds Xu Wendong's past memories.
Now it appears renewed before his eyes, like a vivid yet unfamiliar modern ukiyo-e.
He stood by the street, with bustling crowds surging like tides, and vehicles like steel fish weaving between the towering buildings, with the sounds of horns, footsteps, and conversations intertwining into a bustling urban symphony.
In his memory.
This was merely a modest and unassuming county town, with winding cobblestone streets, houses with low eaves and uneven roofs, where neighbors called out familiar and warm greetings.
Who would have thought.
Time, like a masterful craftsman, wielding the giant pen of years, sculpted it into the modern spectacle before him.
Towering buildings rose from the ground, with their glass facades sparkling in the sunlight, reflecting the city's vitality and exuberance.
