In the least bustling North City District of the four districts outside the Ancestral Court, there was a not-so-wide alley filled with the smell of human life.
Two men who seemed to be getting on in years were sitting face to face at a table, eating wontons.
"Old Ji, today these wontons are more tasteless the more I eat them." The old man in faded clothes looked at the wontons in his bowl, stirred them a few times with his spoon, picked one up, looked it over, and finally said after a while: "Looking at them, they're no different from the wontons of our childhood, maybe even more exquisite, so why do they taste off?"
"In our childhood, we didn't eat much; just having a bowl of wontons was like celebrating New Year's. Now we eat so many good things, naturally these wontons don't have the same taste as before." Old Ji paused, and then continued.
