Tingen North District, Fania Street, Number 49.
In the afternoon, the sun was shining brightly. Lex, dressed in a formal suit and wearing a top hat, stood in front of the porch and pulled the doorbell.
Following his plan, after lunch, he rested for a short while and then set off at two in the afternoon to visit Mr. Hardy Brooke, Jane Britney's grandson.
After pulling the doorbell three times, Lex stepped back two paces, a smile on his face.
He intended to continue using his identity as a reporter, taking a report related to the 'black star' as an entry point, to see if he could extract any useful information from the old gentleman.
It would be even better if he could get Mr. Hardy's hair or even blood. He could use these items to perform a bizarre version of DNA testing, which is Divination!
Divining whether Mr. Hardy and Mania were related; of course, that would require the help of a true Seer, such as Kaven.
He himself had no confidence in it anyway.
Soon, one minute passed, however, the door showed no sign of opening.
Lex frowned slightly. Was Mr. Hardy still taking a nap? As he hesitated between waiting longer or leaving for now, the door of a neighboring house opened, and an old lady came out to open her mailbox.
Seeing Lex, she looked him over curiously, then asked, "Young man, are you looking for Hardy?"
"Yes, madam. I've already rung the bell, but Mr. Hardy seems to still be napping."
The old lady pursed her lips: "Napping? Ha, if Hardy took naps, I'd praise the Goddess."
At this point, the old lady habitually tapped her chest four times, then continued, "That old man Hardy, he's too energetic. Ever since his wife passed away, he's been like a wild horse without a bridle; no one can rein him in."
"At this time, he should be on Red Moon Street, selling his desi pie near the church."
Lex was speechless for a moment. This old gentleman couldn't sit still and was putting his remaining energy to good use?
"Alright, thank you for telling me all this. I wish you a pleasant afternoon, madam." Lex touched his hat, saying politely.
Arriving at Red Moon Street and seeing the beautiful white square in front of St. Selina's Church, Lex took a deep breath and walked forward.
He was about to ask someone where to buy desi pie nearby when a fragrant aroma wafted through the air. It was a mixture of wheat, meat, and fruit, a unique fragrance emanating from food.
Even though he had just finished lunch, Lex's appetite was whetted, and the image of desi pie was already forming in his mind.
Following the aroma drifting in the air, Lex quickly found a small shop located near the square.
"Hardy's Pie Shop." Looking at the shop's sign, Lex couldn't help but smile, "What a truly simple name."
The shop's business seemed to be quite good; although it wasn't bustling, one or two customers would enter every few minutes.
The shop was small, with almost no room to stand, so customers would buy their food and leave.
Moreover, there were no employees in the shop, only a food rack with just two items on it.
desi pie and sweet iced tea.
They were clearly placed in two rows. Customers would come, take what they wanted, and then drop varying amounts of money into a cash box on the side.
The smallest amount was a quarter of a penny, and the largest was no more than one or two pennies.
Behind the small shop was an open-plan small kitchen, where an old man, wearing a chef's hat invented by Emperor Roselle and an apron, was making pies.
He chopped large pieces of fatty meat very finely, mixing lean and fat, then added oil and salt and stirred.
He didn't look at the food rack at all, nor did he care if customers consciously dropped coins. He only focused on making pies.
Lex had no choice but to stand aside and wait. A moment later, the old man placed the new batch of freshly baked pies on the shelf, then his serious expression relaxed, and he gently massaged his shoulder, showing signs of old age.
It was then that the old man noticed Lex.
Lex took off his hat and smiled, "Mr. Hardy?"
"Hmm?" The old man ignored Lex, poured himself a cup of coffee that had been brewed earlier, pulled over the only chair in the shop, and sat down.
Lex had no choice but to clench his fist and cough, saying, "Mr. Hardy, I am a reporter."
Hardy Bruce looked up at him: "Want a pie?"
Yes. Lex heard his sincere inner voice, swallowed, and smiled, "Mr. Hardy, I'm working on a report about the 'black star.' Have you heard of the 'black star'?"
Upon hearing 'black star' for the first time, the old man's expression clearly changed, but then he still mechanically asked, "Want a pie?"
Well, is this his way of saying he won't give an interview unless I buy a pie?
Lex had no choice but to stand up, go to the food rack, and ask, "How much do I need to pay for one pie and one sweet iced tea?"
"Whatever." Hardy took out a cigarette case, picked out a rolled cigarette, felt his pocket, and then asked, "Do you have a match?"
After lighting a cigarette for the old man, Lex took a pie and a sweet iced tea, then dropped his only one soli banknote into the nearby cash box.
He returned to the old man's side and was about to speak when he saw Hardy staring intently at him, then said, "The pie is only delicious when it's hot."
Alright, I'll listen to you.
Lex picked up the pie and took a big bite. He had originally thought that since the old man sold his pies so 'Zen-like', they probably wouldn't taste very good. But to his surprise, with one bite, his mouth was filled with the aroma of meat. The rich, succulent juice soaked into the crust, and it didn't feel dry at all.
Moreover, the meat filling had a great texture and was perfectly seasoned. Plus, with the chopped apples sprinkled inside, the slightly sour and sweet fruit made the pie not feel greasy.
Taking another sip of sweet iced tea made Lex feel like he was back in his previous life, with a cola in one hand and a burger in the other.
In a blink of an eye, the pie and sweet iced tea were finished. Lex let out a satisfied burp, feeling like he wouldn't need to eat dinner.
"How does it taste?" Hardy had almost finished his cigarette.
"Fantastic, even better than the pies I've had in Desi." Lex did not stint on his praise.
A smile gradually formed on the old man's serious face: "Right? Gaelri said the same thing the first time she tasted a pie I made myself. Oh, she was my wife."
"Unfortunately, I can no longer hear her praise."
After a pause, Hardy flicked away his cigarette butt and said, "Where are you from, and how do you know 'black star'?"
Lex quickly produced his prepared statement: "I'm from Backlund. I have a writer friend who is writing a novel using 'black star' as material."
"He and I discussed this rather legendary sailing ship by chance. After I returned to the newspaper office, I was inspired and decided to do a special report."
"I investigated this sailing ship and learned that Ms. Jane Britney was once a passenger on this ship, and she is your grandmother."
Hardy chuckled: "Your information is very well-informed; it's impressive that you found your way here. 'black star,' how long has it been since I last heard that name? It must have been several decades."
"You know, it was the most mysterious 'story' that ran through my entire childhood."