No one goes to Fangjiahetou Ancient Village for breakfast at eight in the morning.
Along a mountain path paved with blue stone slabs, a few passersby brush past each other. The young man's shop hasn't opened yet, and the elderly vendors selling goods on both sides of the road are rarely busy.
At the corner, a hundred meters up the mountain, an old man leans against the wall, crossing his legs and letting his slippers dangle. Next to him, on a stone bench, is all his belongings.
In an orange plastic box, there are nine homemade brooms; in a white foam box, there are freshly picked pumpkins; on a small stool at his feet sits a basket of figs, not very big.
The old man pulls out a deck of cards from the pocket of his slightly faded blue suit. What game is he playing? Unknown.
Diagonally across from the old man's stall is a ceramic craft shop. The shopkeeper's wife is from the north, with a plump figure, wearing a black qipao-style dress. She lets the customers pick for themselves, with prices marked below the items, and a QR code for payment visible when they look up.
She herself carries a box of miscellaneous items and a bouquet of dried flowers as she steps out. Is there no one in the shop? Customers can help themselves.
The shopkeeper's business isn't limited to this ceramic craft shop; a hundred meters up, she also has a small restaurant, run by a local aunt, specializing in local dishes cooked on a traditional stove, which is quite popular with tourists.
The shopkeeper catches her breath and stops in front of the old man's stall: "Old man, how much are the pumpkins?"
The old man quickly puts away the cards, stands up, and says, "Ten yuan for three."
The shopkeeper takes a look and says, "Then I'll take them all, forty yuan, is that okay?"
The old man is confused, his murky eyes revealing an expression of understanding the unpredictability of life, caught in the anxiety of mathematical calculations.
The shopkeeper thinks he might be hard of hearing: "Old man, I want all these pumpkins, forty yuan, right?"
The old man isn't sure if the money matches the number of pumpkins, instinctively shakes his head, "No."
The shopkeeper places her miscellaneous items and plastic flowers at her feet, steps forward, and counts the pumpkins one by one with her hands adorned with a beaded bracelet.
"Old man, look closely, three in a group, I'll count them for you," her hands are quite large, her thumb and pinky spread apart to hold three pumpkins together.
"Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, and two more, right? That means, for forty yuan, you give me two small pumpkins extra."
The old man's mind races as he stands hunched by the roadside. He doesn't nod; he might play cards well, but this calculation isn't clear yet.
The shopkeeper decides to help him sort it out again, "Old man, look, ten yuan for three, right?" She pushes three pumpkins to one side of the foam box, "Is it ten?" The old man nods.
She pushes another ten, the old man nods, pushes another ten, the old man nods again, and finally, after pushing the last two, the old man finally understands and grins with his toothless mouth, "There are two more."
The shopkeeper wipes her sweat, "You give me those two for free; I didn't pick any, I'll take them all. To be honest, I'm not eating these pumpkins; I'm taking them for styling."
The old man doesn't understand what styling is and wonders why she would buy so many pumpkins if she isn't eating them. But that's not for him to think about; he stares at the extra two pumpkins. Should he give them or not?
After some internal deliberation, the old man nods, "Forty yuan, you can take them all."
The shopkeeper wipes her hands and pulls out her phone from her exquisite handbag, "Is mobile payment okay?"
The old man's murky eyes cloud over again; he doesn't have a phone, let alone a QR code for payment. He points to the shop in front.
The shopkeeper understands, swaying her figure as she walks to the shop ahead, "Auntie, auntie," she waves her hand inside, "Auntie, I'll scan forty yuan, please give it to that old man in front."
The aunt looks like all the other aunties with permed hair wearing floral blouses, stretching her neck: "Which old man?"
The shopkeeper raises her hand to point ahead, bending down to mimic the old man's posture. The aunt understands, goes into the shop, and takes out two twenty-yuan bills from the counter.
The aunt waves the money towards the old man. He immediately gets up and shuffles over, taking it with both hands. The shopkeeper picks up her miscellaneous items, dried flowers, and a box of pumpkins, heading towards the small restaurant up the mountain.
The old man pulls out a plastic bag from the side of his clothes, inside is a yellowed stainless steel lunch box. He opens it to find two five-yuan bills, one ten-yuan bill, and one fifty-yuan bill. He puts the two twenties inside, then takes everything out to count again before putting it back in.
After wrapping the lunch box in layers of the plastic bag, he tucks it into his coat. He takes out the cards, flipping them one by one and placing them on the stone bench, the illogical faces of the cards, all the rules and gameplay are in the old man's mind.
By the time we head down the mountain, the old man is counting money again.