Lanzhou | At the vegetable market at seven o'clock

The door opened with a "squeak", and the cold November air from the north greeted me. Winter in the north is different from that in the south. The wind is cold and crisp. The skin wrapped in the thick coat was still warm, but the lips and nose were a little stiff from the cold, but it was still bearable. I even started jogging on the way to the vegetable market. I like the dry winter so much.

It's 7:56 in the morning. He was still sleeping and I snuck out. The people I met on the road wore masks, and most of them carried plastic bags with food in their hands. Everything was in order in silence. The vegetable market shown on the map is actually a small alley, with some water on the uneven cement road. Some stalls were not open when I arrived. In April this year, I came to Lanzhou with my roommates and went to the wet market. The vegetable market in Lanzhou always seems to be busy. Even in the morning when there are few people, everyone is still busy, as if there is always a rush. The stall owner was also much more enthusiastic. When I passed by a pork stall, the stall owner shouted and asked me if I wanted to buy meat. I waved my hand and walked inside to find other ingredients. When I walked back, I saw him waving to me.

"Come and take a look! Come, come, it's all from today, fresh!"

I couldn't resist the hospitality, so I asked the stall owner if he had any spareribs.

"The little girl wants ribs, right? Yes, soup or hot pot?"

"Let's make some soup. How much will it take for two people?"

"Two people eat, one pound is enough, just wait a minute, it will be ready soon!" He picked out a piece, weighed it, swung the knife, and chopped it down neatly. When chopping the ribs, he said, "This winter is suitable for hot pot. The last time I bought ribs, I went home to cook hot pot. But stewing Soup is good too. "Although we were chatting, we didn't stop doing anything. I smiled and said I would try it next time, and then I rubbed my hands and waited by the stall, thinking about the differences between the north and the south. The stall owners in Wenzhou would not do this. They would shout a few words in a formulaic manner, without a fixed target, and it seemed like they were talking to the air. If the other party declined, they would stop soliciting customers.

I bought a lot of things. Some of them looked ugly, but as a veteran of eating apples, I knew at a glance that they were crispy and sweet apples, tender corn that watered out when I pinched it, palm-sized chestnut pumpkins, juicy and bright red tomatoes, A variety of hot pot meatballs and cauliflower as a side. After coming out of the vegetable market, I regretted not picking him up and going out together. When I got home, my hands were so strangled that I couldn't feel anything, and they were as cold as five radishes.

When he came back, he had just woken up and asked sleepily: "Where have you been?" Pretending to be mysterious, he pulled him to the kitchen: "Let's cook together today." He put my hand into his palm and breathed: " Why didn’t you call me? It’s so cold outside, silly.”

On the afternoon of the day we went to Zhongshan Bridge, the two of us stopped by to buy flour and leeks. Before going out, he asked: "Are you really good at making steamed buns?" Pastry The newbie nodded ambitiously, even though he had only made it twice - and he failed in the dough making process. He was convinced. When he came back, the two of them kneaded the dough and put the dough into the bowl. When I checked again two hours later, the originally small dough had expanded to the point where it almost overflowed the edge of the bowl, and was white, fat and soft. My craftsmanship has always been bad, and even the buns I make are ugly. I don’t know if it’s because he is from the north. Although I don’t want to admit it, it’s obviously my first time making buns, but his buns are better-looking than mine. I raised the wrapped steamed buns stuffed with mutton in front of him: "Aren't they cute?" "Hey, I am from the south, and the buns are so small. Look at mine." Look at the buns he is making in his hand.

….Good guy, it’s three times bigger than mine.

Place the wrapped buns into the steamer, leaving some space. There was steam coming out of the rice cooker's outlet. From time to time I ran into the kitchen to look at it, waiting for the beep to sound.

The moment the lid was opened, large amounts of steam rose from the pot. After driving them away with my hands, I found that the buns were crowded in the pot, like lively and cute big fat boys. I couldn't wait to grab one and bite it in one bite. The soft bun skin is slightly sweet and quite elastic, followed immediately by the perfectly blended chives and eggs, with just the right taste and humidity.

"Wow, the bun skin is finally soft." He handed the other bun to my mouth: "I made it so delicious." "Humph, it's just stinky."

On the afternoon of the last day, I went to the Gansu Provincial Museum.

Flying swallows are trampled by horses. In fact, I am very impatient most of the time, and I almost always skim through museums unless I am very interested. Among the museums I have been to, the most impressive one is the Hunan Provincial Museum. Before going to Changsha, I supplemented the documentary and excavation reports on Mawangdui. The relationship with Mawangdui can be traced back to my childhood. In a dark room with no lights before going to bed, a person sat cross-legged in front of the TV. What was being shown was a program from the 10th Central Committee of the Communist Party of China. I can’t remember how close I was. Science is still about discovery. I still remember that the atmosphere was so frightening that I covered my eyes with my hands, but secretly exposed a slit between my fingers, ready to close my eyes at any moment when the terrifying scene appeared. I have to say that CCTV’s commentary was indeed qualified, and my curiosity about the thousand-year-old female corpse has been buried in my heart since that night. I even wanted to be an archaeologist when I was in junior high school.

Before going to Changsha, I told Xiao Wang that I would be a competent tour guide. During this preparation, my incomplete impression of Mawangdui was filled. I discovered the causes and consequences of Mawangdui, the human losses after its excavation, and the mystery of incorruption. There are several speculations, and the silk painting unearthed from Tomb No. 1 is even related to the "Book of Mountains and Seas" that I read earlier.

However, I didn’t make much preparation before going to the Gansu Provincial Museum this time. I only briefly watched the documentary on the Hexi Corridor on the plane to Lanzhou. I was not prepared enough and was a bit distracted. Later, when I was about to leave, I saw the reading booth at the exit. The two people, who had no place to kill time, read a poem together, which was "I Like That You Are Silent" by Neruda.