My hometown is far away in Moscow.

020 Container Market

Since Bayin and Persimmon Face appeared in the dormitory last month covered in blood, Maji's foreign students have been extra vigilant when going out and rarely go to places that are too far or too remote.

Looking at the subway map, Mati is located northwest of Moscow, while the Grand Market is in the northeast, more than ten subway stops away. Hu Yi was reluctant to travel that far, but the temptation of the fried dough sticks was simply too great.

Northerners love to eat fried dough sticks. Ever since he can remember, at least half of Hu Yi's family's breakfasts every week consisted of fried dough sticks and soy milk. The taste of fried dough sticks has become an indelible culinary memory for him since childhood.

Since arriving in Moscow, lunch at the school cafeteria has consisted of lamb and carrot fried rice with mashed potatoes and beet soup. Back in the dormitory, we basically fill our stomachs with bread, milk, and instant noodles. Although we occasionally cook some Chinese home-style dishes ourselves, we can never get special local delicacies like fried dough sticks and soy milk.

After more than two months, the Chinese students were craving fried dough sticks. Now that they heard they could get them at the market, their mouths watered, and they looked forward to indulging in the delicious treat every day. However, the market was too far from the school, and its various areas were scattered like stars, with thousands of stalls scattered haphazardly, like a small city. Without an older student to guide them, they would definitely get lost.

Two weeks passed in the blink of an eye, and the New Year holiday had just ended when Lu Tao finally gave the notice: "I'll take you to the big market on Saturday. We'll meet at 5:30 in the morning to depart."

"5:30?!" Hu Yi exclaimed in surprise, "It's not even dawn yet!"

"People at the market finish eating early and start working early, otherwise the fried dough sticks will be sold out," Lu Tao explained. "We also leave for work very early in the morning, and it takes us more than an hour to get there."

In January in Moscow, the days fly by, while the nights are exceptionally long. It's completely dark by 4 PM, and if you leave for class around 8 AM, you have to walk under the stars and moon. 5:30 AM is definitely the middle of the night.

The students who had been crying and shouting about going to eat fried dough sticks a few days ago, upon hearing that they had to leave at 5:30, all said they would do it next time, and very few actually went. Hu Yi and Li Baoqing were also a little hesitant, but when they thought of the fragrant fried dough sticks, they still struggled to get up on time.

Surprisingly, Peng Song got up even earlier than them. While the two were still sleepily washing up, he was already dressed and waiting at the door, his face full of excitement. He had now become inseparable from Hu Yi and Li Baoqing, following them wherever they went. Although Hu Yi often gave him a cold shoulder, Li Baoqing was mostly quite friendly.

Lu Tao had a strong sense of time; he and Yan Zhiwen appeared in the lobby on the first floor just as 5:30 arrived. The others didn't linger either; they quickly gathered and hunched over before disappearing into the night.

Moscow is currently in the coldest season of the year, and the early hours of the morning are the coldest time of day, with outdoor temperatures around minus twenty degrees Celsius.

Everyone was dressed very warmly, and Peng Song wrapped himself up like a ball, wearing a sweater, fleece, thermal underwear, long johns, wool pants, jeans, gloves, a hat, leather boots, and a thick long down jacket. He wrapped a scarf several times to cover his neck and face, leaving only his eyes showing.

It snowed all night, and it's only just starting to stop. The dark clouds in the night sky are gradually dissipating, and the thick snow reflects the hazy moonlight. Under the streetlights, you can vaguely see snowflakes dancing in the wind, creating a unique winter night atmosphere. The few people who were just half-asleep were instantly awakened by the cold wind and hurried towards the subway station, crunching through the snow.

Hu Yi had read in books before that the harsh Moscow cold had caused countless soldiers of Napoleon's army to freeze to death overnight, and had also helped the Soviet Red Army repel the German invaders. The stories were certainly exciting, but experiencing it firsthand was not so pleasant. He wasn't wearing many layers, and as soon as he stepped from the dormitory building onto the street, he felt his hands and feet were frozen solid. The cold seeped into his trousers from his feet, leaving his calves icy cold.

"Damn, it's so cold," Hu Yi muttered, quickening his pace. Turning his head, he saw Peng Song's short legs flailing back and forth, muttering repeatedly, "It's so cold, so cold, I'm freezing to death."

Hu Yi said disdainfully, "You're wearing so many layers and you're still cold?"

Peng Song sniffed twice, pointing with his thick cotton gloves to his eyelashes and eyebrows covered in ice crystals, his teeth chattering: "My eyes are freezing, they hurt so much."

The group quickened their pace, running and stumbling into the subway station, where a wave of warmth washed over them. That's how Moscow winters are; standing outside for two minutes will freeze you to the bone, but if you just find a small shack and crawl inside, you'll quickly warm up again.

As soon as he warmed up, drowsiness came over him. There weren't many people on the subway in the morning. Hu Yi chatted with Yan Zhiwen for a bit, yawned, closed his eyes, and slept all the way to the station.

Lu Tao worked in the Izmailovo district in northeastern Moscow, which was then the largest commodity distribution market in Moscow. The market stalls were mostly neatly arranged containers, so it was usually called the Container Market. Chinese people also called it "Ant Market" or "Ant Market" because of the similar pronunciation of the place name.

The Ant Market is very large, divided into many different areas, with a large number of merchants from various countries operating shops there, among whom Chinese make up a significant proportion.

At seven o'clock in the morning, it was still pitch black, but there were already quite a few people on the roads between the markets. Some were quietly pulling their goods and hurrying along, while others were chatting in small groups, smoking. Their accents were mixed, including what sounded like Russian, chattering Vietnamese, various other foreign languages ​​that were hard to understand, and all sorts of Chinese dialects.

Lu Tao led them through winding paths until they reached a relatively open residential area, heading straight for a small, pointed-roofed log cabin. As soon as the door opened, Hu Yi and the others were greeted by a long-lost aroma, and almost bursting into tears, they rushed inside, pulling out large sums of rubles to prepare for a good meal.

This shop is run by Chinese people, and it certainly has a wide variety of Chinese snacks. Besides fried dough sticks and soy milk, they also have fried cakes, sesame balls, braised noodles, steamed buns, and more. Although the cooking skills are only so-so, it's a taste of home that we haven't had in a long time, so the group ordered almost everything on the menu and wolfed it down around a large table.

"Delicious, fried dough sticks are still the best!" Li Baoqing muttered angrily, his mouth full. "The Russians eat white or black bread every morning, and it doesn't even smell like farts."

Hu Yi swallowed a steamed bun, then grabbed a piece of fried cake, licked his lips, and said, "The black bread still has flavor, a kind of sour pancake flavor."

The others smiled but remained silent, simply stuffing their mouths full. Everyone ate until they were nearly full, then contentedly nestled in the shop, patting their bellies and chatting, until dawn broke before reluctantly queuing to leave.

It was a bit more lively outside than before, with pedestrians and tow trucks constantly moving back and forth in the market. The snow in the middle of some roads had been trampled into mud. This group of people had arrived cold and tired, but after eating, they perked up and followed Lu Tao and Yan Zhiwen with great interest, asking them about interesting things happening in the market as they walked.

"Chinese goods make up the majority of this market—clothes, shoes, socks, furs—most of them come from China," Lu Tao said, deftly dodging the dirty snowmelt on the ground and pointing to the containers on both sides of the road. "Many Chinese people come here to do business, and even more to work. There are vendors, laborers, people providing all sorts of services, and people who make a living through various legal or illegal means. You find all kinds of people here."

Hu Yi curiously followed Lu Tao's gaze and looked around: "Wow, this place seems pretty convenient to live in, but it's a bit dirty and messy."

"Tens of thousands of Chinese people live and work here, so of course it's convenient," Lu Tao nodded with a smile. "The market is like an urban village, with everything you need for food, drink, entertainment, clothing, housing, and transportation. If you don't mind the poor environment, you could live here forever without ever leaving."

Everyone imagined what life would be like in the market, chattering and expressing their feelings. One preparatory student asked, "How much do you get paid a month working here?"

Lu Tao said, "I mainly use my holidays to help my boss sell goods. When I don't have classes, I also occasionally help out with odd jobs. I can earn about four or five hundred US dollars a month."

"Wow! You can earn four or five hundred dollars doing odd jobs?!" The preparatory students looked on with envy. Li Baoqing clapped his hands excitedly: "That's more than my parents' combined salaries! I earned a year's tuition in just three months! Brother Tao, I want to work at the market too, is that okay?!"