Tianjin was incredibly strange; the Western practice of opening the harbour to plunder the seas was, it turned out, combined with the high-speed crosstalk, just right, and the scent of phoenix tree wood and fried dough twists mingled together, accompanied by the scent of golden fried sweets, and Tianjin natives crouched on the sides of the street passing the morning, laughing and calling out “jiejie” regardless of whether or not they recognised you. It had been quite hard to come; A Yin begged Li Shiyi and Tu Laoyao to stay with her a few days in Tianjin and rent a small boathouse; each morning, as the scent of black coffee permeated the air, Tu Laoyao stood in line half a shichen to buy baozi that a dog wouldn’t pay attention to, and then she leaned out of the balcony to watch the opera, exclaiming earnestly down to rival immortals. Tu Laoyao was entirely unaccustomed to coffee; nevermind drinking it, even if he were to catch its scent, he wouldn’t be able to smell it; it made his hea...