The Old Factory Street under the veil of night.
The food stalls along the street are bustling, pots clattering and smoke spiraling.
Electric bikes and cars weave in and out, horns honking incessantly.
Many workers returning to East Capital for the New Year are gradually coming back, bringing renewed vitality to this dilapidated street.
This also includes some who are up to no good, the presence of some gang members.
These people move in small groups, arms draped over each other, laughing and joking, occasionally spouting vulgar profanities.
Sometimes, a disagreement would lead to one grabbing a stool from a food stall and rushing at the other, resulting in a chaotic brawl that makes passersby stop and watch.
Lin Fusheng's Clinic.
Warm yellow light spills through the glass door, along with a burst of noisy chatter.
A man in a gray trench coat and glasses weaves through the bustling crowd outside, pushing the door open.
A pungent smell of herbal wine hits him immediately.
