A line had formed at a little shop behind the Drum Tower. I knew it was food, I thought it might be some kind of local cookie.
I asked two girls in front of me. They told me something in Mandarin, but I'd never heard the word before. The taller girl searched her phone.
"Chestnut," she said.
I'd seen them sold around town, but surely these were the best chestnuts in Ningbo, if people were queuing up. We waited ten minutes until the woman handed us a half kilo in a tall paper bag, 12RMB.
They were so good that we took turns burning our fingers, trying to crack them open.