Horses are thin and small.

The man on the horse is thinner and smaller, and if you put him on the scale, he probably won't weigh much heavier than a rabbit.

In the neck of this thin and small boy hung a golden bell, and this bell was so large that it was almost like the young man's eyes.

The wind rises, the horse moves, and the bell makes a long series of jingling sounds with the rhythm of walking, as if composing a desolate song of the side.

It was a teenager on the horse.

Although the boy was thin and small, his eyes were big and bright, as big as a bell, as bright as stars in the night.

Although he had traveled a long way, and although he was tired, he was still smiling, and his smile was full of intelligence and mystery, like a parchment scroll that could not be guessed.

The wind and sand caressed his immature and old face, and then, with a long yawn on his horse, he reined in his crotch and looked back at Yellowstone in the twilight.

At one end of Yellowstone Town, the yellow sand is flying in the sky.

And at the other end of Yellowstone Town, there is also flying yellow sand.

Huangshi Town is connected to the yellow sand, and the yellow sand fills the sky, and the long series of jingling bells floating in the yellow sand seems to come from the sky.

This followed the east-west street, rode the thin, small horse, to a lighted place, and slowly stopped.

Where there is a light, it is also a shop, a restaurant.

It's just that in this restaurant, there is neither a banquet for two hundred taels of silver per table, nor a spacious and clean seat, nor a smiling guy.

This place doesn't even have a plug in the place.

The place was crowded and cramped, and the smell of firewood smoke and oil smoke was everywhere, which could choke people's noses, not the sound of a real cough.

At the door of the shop, there was a small table, and behind the table, sat a middle-aged man who was plainly dressed, but very neatly decorated.

This middle-aged man sat there, constantly moving the abacus in his hand, hula, hula calculating the accounts, and the expression on his face didn't know whether he was angry or happy, which made people puzzled.

At this time, the small shop was already crowded with customers, and the man was so busy that the customers were shaking their paws, but he still sat there with peace of mind, stirring his abacus, and had no intention of greeting customers, or even coming out to greet people.

It's as if someone else comes in to eat or poop, and it has nothing to do with him.

His role is to collect the debts, and he doesn't care about anything else.

Clearly, he is the master here.

It's a very strange little shop, and there is a very strange owner in this strange little shop, the little shop is strange, the owner is strange, and even the guests who come to eat here are strange.

So, the name of this shop is called Strange Shop.

The owner of this strange shop is even stranger, he has no surname, no name, and no one knows his origin, so everyone else calls him Mr. Strange.

Mr. Strange sat at the back of the counter, fiddling with the abacus in one hand and holding his chin in the other, looking at the customers coming and going in the store with a strange expression, and then looked into the kitchen in the back hall.

The stove in the kitchen in the back hall was also very busy, and the red stove was constantly flashing out with blue flames, like an old dog with a tongue stretched out at the landlord's door, and the slightest lack of hope could swallow up this small, crowded and strange place.

And the stove with the flickering blue flame was now illuminating a big fat man who was sweating profusely and had a naked upper body.

This fat man is the chef in the store.

There is only one cook in this small shop, so this fat cook is so busy that he almost doesn't have time to wipe his sweat.

He had to wave the shovel a few times a while to turn over the vegetables that were being fried in the pot, and he had to wave the spoon a few times a few times to stir the soup that was boiling in the pot a few times, and he had to move the shovel and spoon together for a while, and he didn't know whether it was stir-frying or boiling soup, but he was very busy anyway.

And at this moment, the big iron pot behind him on the stove was already boiling, and the boiling water was croaking white smoke, slowly propping up the wooden lid on it, coo, clatter, clattering, and jumping upwards incessantly, like a frog beating in a pond full of water on a rainy day.

In another big iron pot, the lard was being refined, and the oil was already boiling, splashing everywhere with green smoke.

On the bluestone stove next to the door, there are many baskets, large and small, bamboo, and rattan, which contain all kinds of cooked and fried food, steamed buns, oil cakes, pancakes, fruits, and barbecued meat.

The slander did not come in, but Ding Dang did.

However, he was greeted not by the enthusiastic fellows or the smiling bosses, but by the noise of the people eating and drinking in this strange shop.

Ding Dang looked at the yellow sand and the heavy twilight, and as soon as he lifted his foot, he jumped down from the little horse and tied it to the stake in front of the door.

After tethering the pony, he stood at the door of the strange shop and looked inside, as if waiting for someone to greet him, a young master with no money, but suddenly found that Mr. Strange was still crackling and stirring the abacus, the fat cook was still sweating profusely stir-frying his dishes, boiling his soup, and the guests were eating and drinking, yelling at him to drink five or six, and no one had the time to pay attention to him, which made him a little disgraced, so he couldn't help but shake his head.

He shook his head, not only because he had been left out, but also because there were too many people inside, drinking, punching, chatting, bragging, peeing on the wall, burrowing under the table and counting their fingers.

Although his man was thin and small, not much bigger than a flea, it seemed not so easy to walk through the crowd that could not even fit a needle in, and find a comfortable seat in it, drink some wine, eat some snacks or something.

However, he still laughed.

Other people's laughter starts from the forehead, and as the forehead stirs, the eyebrows gradually stretch out, slowly extending to the corners of the eyes, and then spreading through the corners of the eyes to the mouth, but when he laughs, it runs out of the gaps between his teeth. It is a well-known fact that such laughter usually carries a great degree of lethality.

And he laughed in large part because his bad ideas might have come out of these laughs that came out of his teeth.

He stepped on the threshold with one leg and crossed his knee with the other, and then, putting his hands to his lips, he made a trumpet and shouted at the store, "Man."