A stretch of snow-white wrist, linked to slender hands, was exposed to the air. The arm, like a pink lotus root, was delicate and pure, without a single blemish.,It's rare to have a holiday, and the street is crowded.,The elderly man was over sixty years old, his hair was gray, but he was in good spirits. His stall was set up next to his son's store, not taking up anyone else's space. He had a small table with copper coins and antique jewelry on it. The old man sat behind the table, chatting with people when they came by. When there were no customers, he would occasionally take out his long pipe and take a few puffs. Basically, there weren't many chances to chat, and most of the time he was alone in silence.。