烟花三月,漫步在扬州老城区,目光掠过古香古色的老宅老巷,心神会一下子安静下来,沉浸在无边的想象中,仿佛自己的每一个足音都能与古时的喧嚣重合。在一个古朴的小巷口,一个卖茶叶蛋的摊子闯入了我的眼帘。这里卖茶叶蛋的摊子很多,摊主大多是上了年岁的老人。但在这个摊子后面坐着的,却是一位中年男子。他拿起勺子轻轻地敲着鸡蛋,脸上带着恬然淡定的微笑,一如出家人轻敲木鱼时的那种虔诚。 Fireworks in March, walking in the old city of Yangzhou, passing the ancient old house overlooking the old lane, the mind will suddenly quiet, immersed in boundless imagination, as if every one of their footsteps can coincide with the hustle and bustle of ancient times . In a quaint alleyway, a stall selling tea eggs broke into my eyes. Here are many stalls selling eggs, eggs, stalls are mostly on the elderly. But sitting behind this stall was a middle-aged man. He picked up the spoon and gently tapped the egg, his face with a calm smile, as the monk tapped the kind of piety when the wooden fish.