After tidying up his thoughts and putting aside further pondering, Galon stripped off his clothes, turned off the kerosene lamp, lay down on his bed, gently pulled up the covers, and gradually calmed down, slipping into sleep in the darkness.
...
...
...
Ding... Ding... The morning bells tolled one after another.
A pale light spilled onto the white bedding where Galon, lying on his back, slowly opened his eyes, looked outside in a daze, took a deep breath, and slowly sat up after pushing off the covers.
In the dimly lit red room, some areas of the redwood floorboards were peeling, revealing the pale yellow wood underneath. A silver-framed wheat field landscape painting on the wall was slightly askew. The half-open window on the right allowed gusts of cold air to pour in, making a whistling sound.
Thud, thud, thud...
Footsteps from his sister, Ying'er, echoed from the living room, distinct against the floor.
Rubbing his temples, Galon cleared his mind, got off the bed wearing his gray and white pajamas, which seemed a bit loose and baggy at the chest. Pulling at his shirt, a hint of resignation crossed his face. "I never minded before, but wearing mom's old pajamas to sleep now feels... odd."
Approaching the window, he gently closed the opened window.
Below the window, to the right was the neighborhood street with a few passersby in thick coats, one even adorned with a dome hat and scarf. Behind the left building, the parking lot held more cars than usual, all black or white, with headlights protruding like the eyes of antique cars.
"Those cars look nice but probably need to cool down after just a few dozen miles..." Galon shook his head in disbelief, sniffing the air for the scent of fried eggs and hot milk.
Leaving the window, he moved to the bedroom door, quietly turned the doorknob, and the spacious red living room came into view. The yellow and white curtains on the right fluttered in the wind from outside.
To the left, visible to the kitchen at the end, his sister Ying'er was carefully flipping an egg in the pan. She had changed into a black waist-cinched short dress, its hem trimmed with white lace, her legs covered in the thickest opaque black tights. Her purplish-black hair cascaded freely behind her, her wine-red eyes focused on the frying pan.
"Awake? Go wash up, then come for breakfast. I bought fresh white bread, along with fried eggs and hot milk," Ying'er called out without turning her head.
"Are they not coming back?" Galon, feeling greasy on his face, walked a few steps forward, turned left into the bathroom, and stood before the sink to turn on the faucet.
Whoosh...
Clear water gushed from the tap. Galon grabbed his red towel, dampened it, wrung it out, and pressed it against his face.
"They mentioned being away on a business trip last time, didn't they?" Ying'er casually replied.
"Do you know where they went?"
"I think it was to Derlin City... It's a three-day train journey from here. Considering the round trip..." Ying'er continued as she turned off the stove, plated the eggs, and set them on the table.
"It'll probably be over a week before they return, so we'll be on our own this weekend again," she concluded, arranging the bread, milk, and eggs on the table. "All set, you can eat now."
Galon quickly finished washing up, placed his wooden toothbrush back in the cup, and exited the bathroom to sit opposite Ying'er at the dining table.
Across the rectangular redwood table, they sat facing each other. Their metal plates each held a triangular piece of pale yellow bread, lightly marked with letters.
Galon picked up his fork and knife, cutting a piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. It was somewhat hard, dry, and only faintly sweet.
Ying'er took a sip of her milk first. "It's Saturday today, any plans?"
"Um... I'm heading to the old streets of Pennington in the south of the city later. There's a new antique shop I want to check out," Galon said, focusing on his eggs.
"Pennington's quite far... From Blue Tree Street to the city center, and then another half-hour walk, practically diagonal across the city. What do you need at an antique shop?" Ying'er asked, puzzled. "If it's not important, I was thinking of visiting the fruit market and maybe the pet street nearby. Could you come and help me carry things?" She glanced at Galon, a flicker of hope in her eyes.
"Get some of my favorite white pears," she quickly added.
"White pears?" Galon paused, remembering the previous Galon's fondness for white pears, "Never mind, I have something to do at the antique shop."
"Alright then..." Ying'er nodded, dropping the subject and focusing on her meal.
"And with the season changing, make sure to dress appropriately to avoid getting sick," Galon added, swiftly finishing his meal and downing the last of his milk. "I'll be heading out." He stood up to change clothes.
Ying'er, left at the table, watched Galon leave, her mood visibly dropping. She aimlessly poked at the bread pieces on her plate.
Galon, now in a thick black coat and blue-black trousers, wrapped a black and white checkered scarf around his neck. His physique no longer appeared frail but rather hinted at a slender youthful elegance. However, his eyes seemed too profound, like dark red gems connected to an endless abyss, entirely different from before.
The change in his eyes significantly matured and solidified his demeanor.
Ying'er looked up, her eyes brightening slightly. "How long will you be out? When will you be back?"
Galon adjusted his scarf. "I'll be back by lunch for sure. Okay, I'm off."
He walked to the door, slipped into his black boots, opened it, and stepped out.
The neighbor across the hallway, a middle-aged man wearing glasses and carrying a black bag, glanced back at him without a word, entered his apartment, and gently closed the door, eschewing any greeting.
Galon remembered this neighbor, Mr. Boris, living without a female companion, only with a boy around seven or eight years old. Both were reticent, never exchanging greetings, except for a brief introduction when the Galons first moved in. This lack of courtesy had left a lasting impression on the Galon family.
Holding the cold metal door, Galon warmed his hands before heading down the stairs.
Reaching the bottom, he turned left onto the grey-tiled path and exited the complex. The surrounding yellow buildings and black railings created a stark contrast against the sparse pedestrian traffic.
An antique car trailing white smoke slowly passed by, followed by a fruit-laden ox cart, its driver occasionally cracking the whip.
Walking along the pedestrian path, Galon observed the neighboring yellow buildings.
The buildings, about seven stories high with square windows, some open and others secured with wire mesh, presented a uniform appearance. The round edges of the buildings softened their silhouette.
The cold autumn wind tousled Galon's hair, prompting him to bow his head against the skin-stiffening chill. Sparse trees lined the walkway, their bare branches stark against the sky.
Continuing along the path, Galon eventually reached a busier area. Passing a brass plaque marked "Garden Street," he turned left at a crossroad, entering a street flanked by ornate grey and white buildings adorned with columns and reliefs.
A woman in a white, silver-edged dress walked her dog, while two elderly men with canes chatted on a decorative bench.
Tightening his scarf, Galon glanced at the upper floors of a building on the left, where his uncle lived. His uncle's support had been crucial for their enrollment at Saint Ying Academy. A self-made man, his uncle was among the city's wealthiest, always treating Galon well, albeit less so towards Ying'er due to traditional values.
"Maybe I'll visit my uncle on the way back..." Galon thought, quickening his pace towards the street's end.
Passing a brass plaque for "Pennington," he reached a round corner with an archway leading to a small shop, its doors wide open and warmly lit. An elderly man with glasses inside was engrossed in examining a small object.
Galon glanced at the sign above, "Dolphin Antiques," and stepped inside the unoccupied shop.
Under the dim yellow light, the compact space was devoid of customers.
Filled with tables and draped in deep red cloth, the shop displayed an array of intriguing items.
Startled by the presence of someone to his right, Galon realized it was just a white statue of a curly-haired child, only the shoulders and head on display.
"What can I help you with?" The elderly man, his skin sallow and wrinkled, looked up from his magnifying glass to ask.
"Just browsing..." Galon replied, taken aback but quickly regaining composure. "No need to mind me, I'm just looking around."