On arriving at Beijing Wangfujing Bookstore, in the chilly wind, I wanted to have douzhi, a kind of fermented soybean milk, for breakfast. I am not resistant to that kind of weird drink, actually I have tasted it once and found it very appetizing matched with fried rings of dough, like a kind of specially made yogart. However, I looked around but failed to find such a small restaurant. Large blocks of shopping malls dominated the scene, like a huge can packed with restaurants of fixed brands, M signs everywhere. The vogue of such large block architecture lack sense of beauty and inspiration of simple design, occupies long rows on the main street and blocks flow of fresh air, and inside only small ventings on the roof allow inlet of some air, but on the whole the ventilation was unsatisfactory.
If I would ever have a chance to wander on the street of Northern Song Dynasty, in the painting of master painter Zhang Zeduan, it would be a wonderful imaginary journey. I would enter the city gate hearing morning ringing of the bell, and walking on, I would stop and rest in a large teahouse by the street, erected with wooden posts and supported by reed roofs.
I would order tea and sip the fresh tea, while enjoying fresh breeze and gazing at the young shoots of willow tree at a slow pace. And my mind would be at rest, my soul immersed in pleasant inspiration. Perhaps a sedan would perch at the door of a teahouse, and a woman inside the sedan would order her servant to buy and bring her some tea and snack. Perhaps the guests could merely hear her thin and sweet voice and admire her beauty only in imagination while munching their own snack.
My thoughts wandering, I was seated in a M restaurant munching the sausage hamburger, dipping potato chips in the tomato sauce and swallowing my apple pie.
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