Beijing is a big city, and there are many places that even a native like Chen Ying may not have visited. Most people shuttle through the areas related to their lives and know the fixed streets well, but once they leave there, even if they are only a few streets apart, they immediately become cautious, and they have to repeatedly find people to confirm the names of the streets and alleys before they dare to move forward. The hotel they were going to was in Chaoyang District, close to the embassy area. This was where her grandfather's family lived, and she lived here with her parents until elementary school. At that time, she liked to squat by the Liangma River to catch tadpoles or snails. The clever little fish and shrimp all hid under the thorny aquatic weeds and watched her, occasionally spitting out a few bubbles. In summer, there are always a few singing birds singing in the willow trees by the river, even on hot afternoons. Chen Ying and her friends lay in the shade of the trees on the grass, blowing the homemade kite and turning it non-stop.

Wang Yi also mentioned to her that he used to live here. He finished elementary school here, and then transferred to Haidian with his parents in junior high school. It's a place that Chen Ying doesn't recognize now, with high-rise buildings and glass curtain walls replacing the low-rise houses in his memory, and the doors of the former paper mill are closed. The weeping willows and lawns on both sides of the river bank have been transformed, and neat rows of modern apartment buildings have sprung up like mushrooms. There are no longer grandmothers on the street who push tricycles and sell popsicles, or grandfathers who sell sugar gourds. The Shoppes frontages are occupied by cafes, high-end restaurants and a variety of luxury stores, and the huge posters in the windows are dizzy in the light of the magnesium lights, and it is hard to tell what is in season except for the snow remaining on the roadside, and the wind does not seem to pass through it in all four seasons.

That's probably what it's like to live in a big city.

Chen Ying does not like this atmosphere of alienation, not only because everything around her is very different from her impression, but also because of the pain caused by this overly complex environment. Beneath the overly prosperous exterior, there is a sense of loneliness that has nowhere to put it. She learned that the United States is a "melting pot" with people from every corner of the world. The description was interesting to her, but her experience in London made her appreciate the hardships of such an urban environment for an individual. Different upbringings, different skin tones and faces make the fusion itself seem particularly difficult. The enthusiasm that sparked with Sherlock Holmes was spread on every gravel road she had ever walked, and she imagined how the people who lived in the mist-shrouded capital of the world more than a hundred years ago sighed.

Crowds come and go like migratory birds, and the huge clock on the street, which is supposed to be the sign of a watch shop, reminds her of Big Ben, a landmark in London. Every flutter of the clock is like a urging, cutting the day into a cake neatly, turning life into a strictly quantified resource, which needs to be used with care. However, there are always people who like this kind of visual feast, or the digital carnival that covers it. More and more young people like Chen Ying are gathering here to support this area that never sleeps. They walk the neon-lit streets, gently swaying to the music of the square.

"Here we are." Emma said as she opened the car door. Chen Ying stayed in the car to help Edgar settle the bill with the driver. Liang Jing and Emma open the trunk lid and move things down. Probably the two Americans also felt that the car was very hard, and insisted on tipping the driver 20 yuan before leaving.

"You don't have to tip in China." Liang Jing said with a smile.

"It's okay." Emma stopped her and smiled as Edgar forced a yellow-colored bill to the driver before closing the door. Chen Ying also got out of the car, and the four of them worked together to bring things to the door of the hotel. Seeing this, a waiter hurriedly pushed the cart loaded with luggage over.

"It's so timely." Edgar said as he watched the waiter carry the boxes into the car one by one. In such cold weather, his face was flushed, and his golden hair was covered with sweat. He panted hard at the front desk of the hall with his stomach held up, looking embarrassed. His wife quickly took out the water bottle from her bag, opened the lid and stuffed it into his hand, and watched him take a big gulp.

"You're finally here." A voice came from behind them, and all four of them turned their heads. I saw a tall middle-aged man in a black suit and a silver-gray tie walking towards him. He was very different from Edgar, with black hair and a pair of green eyes next to his high nose. He was very thin and had a clean-shaven chin that showed a shrewd look. He strode over, and the waiters and staff next to him nodded to him. He was followed by two children, a girl who was about five or six years old, and a boy who looked to be only three or four years old. They sat with him on a couch in the lobby of the hotel, not far from the bar. Next to the grand piano at the bar, a young pianist in a gown plays "Green Sleeves," which Chen Ying often hears in Denmark.