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清朝末年,上海已经甚是繁华,只是闸北一带却与市中心不可同日而语,此处住的多是穷人。即便如此,沿街却也满是酒肆、饭馆、盐栈、油行、香店、银庄、布行,各种物事罗列无数,车马声、小贩吆喝声夹杂一起,十分的热闹。这几天在三马路拐角处,坐着一个眉清目秀的男孩,名叫任伯年,十四五岁年纪,衣衫褴褛,愁眉苦脸地坐在自己的小被褥上,面前摊着三五张未曾装裱的画,边上插一个草
At the end of the Qing Dynasty, Shanghai was already a thriving city, but Zhabei area was incomparable with the city center, where most of the poor lived. Even so, the streets are full of wine shops, restaurants, salt stacks, oil lines, incense stores, silver Zhuang, cloth line, all sorts of things listed, horseback, hawkers whistling mixed together, very lively. These days in the corner of the road, sat a handsome boy, named Ren Bo years, fourteen years old, ragged, grinning sitting on their own small bedding, in front of the spread of thirty-five unmounted Painting, insert a grass edge