...
In Zhang Chengjing's bedroom.
Xiaomo stared blankly at the three characters written on the paper, unable to resist muttering under her breath: "Yan... Jun... Ze?"
Suddenly, a memory from her dream surfaced in her mind.
Through the window by the desk, she glanced at the street below. Her dazed mind snapped back, and she stood up. After seriously looking at the three characters on the paper once more, she turned, walked downstairs, left the courtyard, and headed out into the street.
Her choice of direction as she walked down the street was entirely driven by instinct. Even Zhang Xiaomo herself didn't understand why she chose to go this way.
At the corner, a tricycle selling twisted dough sticks passed by. The speaker mounted on the tricycle was broadcasting the shop's address.
"Old Wang's Authentic Twisted Dough Sticks, 32 Xinmin Street, just turn right at May Church..."
"Turn right."
