Walking along the winding stone path, you can see houses lined up in neat rows, mostly in the style of ancient single-family courtyards.
At the gates, a few elderly folks gather from time to time, some chatting about family affairs and basking in the sun, while others are engrossed in a game of Go, with black and white pieces moving back and forth on the board.
Not far away, a group of children are chasing each other through the alleys, laughing and playing, startling a few foraging chicks that flutter their wings and cluck incessantly.
Fang Cheng pushed his grandfather's wheelchair with both hands, looking around as he walked.
His mother and uncle accompanied him, chatting as they went along.
The family wasn't here to sightsee this ancient and quaint old street, but to look at houses.
The landlord was a warm and straightforward middle-aged man, beaming as he led the way, waving his hand to greet them:
