Maximilian Ma and the Echoes of Fate Chapter 53

I sat on the small rickety bench, watching the endless stream of people coming and going on the street, and gnawing on watermelon.

Qian Mazi's watermelon has a thin skin and red, crispy flesh. One mouthful is full of water and one mouthful is full of honey. It's a big watermelon with a knife. Qian Mazi said: "I have been selling melons on this street in Beijing for almost 40 years, and I have never opened a white-flesh melon. I pay attention to the method of picking melons. I always get my melons from the hands of the fans, and they are all serious. The Tubo people are rushing to bring it here. Except for Long Live Grandpa's palace, I can only see it here. Try the taste. Is it different from ordinary watermelons? "

I threw the melon rind into the basin in front of me, rubbed my hand on the handkerArchibald, and picked another big piece on the small table: "Don't make excuses with me. The real watermelon is the watermelon in the field outside the city. Tuboli It traveled thousands of miles to the capital, and it was not stuffy and scattered when it was transported. I really don't dare to eat it. "

Uncle Qian Mazi's face was covered with wrinkles, almost catching a wandering mosquito: "I'm quite discerning. Are you visiting relatives in Beijing?"

It’s thirty-seven or eight degrees and it’s almost noon, and the sun is shining brightly. Except for the beggars on the road, who wouldn’t eat in the cool weather in a restaurant at home? I raised my head and squinted at the shabby bamboo shack and shook my head: "No, I live in the capital now."