The winter in City H is bone - chilling, and the cold wind cuts at the face like a knife. Burberry, having finished a long day of exhausting work, dragged his heavy steps to the bus stop in Area D.
Hungry as he was, his eyes were drawn to a small cart selling cold noodles roasted by the roadside. The cart was old, its metal exterior glinting coldly in the wind, and the signboard on it was swaying precariously, on the verge of being blown off at any moment. "Auntie, one serving of cold noodles roasted, please!" Burberry shouted, wrapping his worn - out cotton - padded coat tightly around him. However, his voice was quickly swallowed up by the wind.
He paid in advance and stood aside waiting. The auntie selling the cold noodles roasted responded without even looking up, continuing to arrange the ingredients. Burberry found a place to stand in a corner beside the cart, looking eagerly as she busied herself in front of the stand, slicing sausages, cracking eggs, and spreading sauces. Her movements were skillful yet somewhat numbed.
At this time, several aunties came over in a group. Standing in front of the cold - noodles - roasted cart, they chatted loudly with the auntie selling the food while placing their orders. The auntie selling the cold noodles roasted immediately put aside the ingredients she had prepared for Burberry and, with a big smile on her face, started making cold noodles roasted for the new - comers first.
Burberry felt a twinge of disappointment in his heart, but the cold weather froze the words of complaint in his throat. The wind seemed to penetrate deep into his bones. Every breath he took carried ice shards. As soon as he opened his mouth, the cold wind rushed straight into his throat, numbing his tongue. He even felt that if he said one more word, the last bit of warmth left in his body would be sucked away. So, he could only rub his hands, which were red and almost numb from the cold, helplessly, and blow warm air onto them from time to time. But that bit of warmth was instantly devoured by the cold wind. His thin body shivered uncontrollably in the strong wind, and his teeth began to chatter involuntarily.
Finally getting the cold noodles roasted, Burberry held them tightly in his arms and trotted all the way home. The corridor was dimly lit. He climbed the stairs with his legs stiff from the cold, each step feeling extremely heavy.
As soon as he entered the house, Burberry couldn't wait to open the package of cold noodles roasted and took a bite. His brows knitted instantly. The side dishes in this cold noodles roasted were meager. Compared with those he had eaten in the south, it was far from satisfactory. The taste was also rather bland, not at all as rich and flavorful as the cold noodles roasted he remembered in the south.
In this cold City H, Burberry looked out at the night scene through the window, feeling an overwhelming sense of loneliness. This simple serving of cold noodles roasted failed to dispel the chill in his heart or soothe his tired soul. His eyes gazed into the distance, filled with longing for warmth and comfort.