Da Han Yan Hua Shi Liu Dong Yuan [1700 Fen Jia Geng]

  Many years later, Liu Ying recalled the scene he had seen at that time. Every blade of grass and every tree was fragrant in the gentle breeze, but at that time, he only heard the sound of his heart beating rapidly, so he hastily called out her name, "A Yan."

  "Hey," Zhang Yan heard the voice from the other side, stood up and patted the grass dust on her knees, turned back to smile and ask, "What's wrong?" with a look of being unaware of worldly worries.

  Liu let out a sigh of relief, and only then did he feel that the fireworks-like aura and sense of reality return to the girl's body. He smiled and said, "Let's eat." With a sigh, he threw away the inexplicable illusion that had suddenly appeared in the next instant, as if the girl on the grass was about to disappear.

  Zhang Yan responded with a sound, putting the half-finished flower ring on her fingertips and walking over while spinning it around, looking at his face with a teasing tone, "Uncle, what's wrong? Is it that you think Ah Yan is born beautiful?"

  "Beauty?" Liu Ying snorted and knocked on her head heavily, "Wait until you're ten years older before saying that word to me again."

  "Ouch," she rubbed the spot where she had been hit and complained, "Uncle always bullies me."

  Zhang Yan bit into a tender piece of meat on the wild chicken wing, smiling at Qing Song and saying, "The flavor is not bad, I didn't expect your culinary skills to be so good."

  "We were guards," Qing Song said calmly, "coming and going in the wind and rain, sleeping outdoors was a common occurrence, and each of us knew how to cook with one hand."

  The sky was a pale blue, with a bright color, Zhang Yan raised her head to see the sun slowly moving westward, "How much longer until we reach Shangshan?"

  Liu Ying also did not know, so he looked at the green pines with his eyes.

  "There's probably still half a time, the last time I went with Sixth Master." Qing Song replied, pointing to a distant green mountain peak, "Do you see that? That is Shang Mountain."

  The carriage continued on its way, the driver steadily driving the horse, moving quickly and smoothly. Zhang Yan sat in the carriage, not feeling any bumps at all, slowly feeling sleepy, leaning against Liu Ying's leg to fall asleep. She didn't know how long it had been when Liu Ying patted her awake, "We've arrived at the foot of Shang Mountain," he said, "we need to get off and walk."

  He handed her a new pair of socks and said lightly, "Put them on, so you won't catch a cold."

  Zhang Yan held up a clean white cotton sock, pursed her lips and smiled. This sock was probably obtained from passing by someone's house or bought at a rural market, and naturally couldn't be compared to the original white silk socks in terms of quality. The plain weave was coarse, the texture slightly prickly, but it still fit well, felt substantial on her feet, and wasn't uncomfortable.

  "Uncle," Zhang Yan jumped off the carriage, and as the curtain was lifted, she saw a crimson cloud in the western sky, indicating that tomorrow would be a fine day. At the foot of Shangshan Mountain, there was a vast expanse of flat land, which diligent farmers had reclaimed and turned into farmland. Dozens of steps away, wisps of smoke could be seen rising from the houses, and between the fields, the sounds of chickens and dogs could be heard, filled with a rich sense of life.

  At this moment, Zhang Yan suddenly thought of a poem: Picking chrysanthemums by the east hedge, I see the south mountain at leisure. The poet was also a recluse who one evening, carrying his hoe back from work in the twilight, saw a patch of fragrant yellow flowers under the east hedge and thus created an eternal idyllic scene. However, she wouldn't recite these two lines out loud because although she loved this poem dearly, the mountain in front of her wasn't the south mountain, and it wasn't autumn when chrysanthemums were in bloom. Even if everything matched perfectly, she hadn't forgotten that this was an era when Chu Ci and Han Fu poetry were popular, and according to legend, the first five-character poem in history was said to have been written by Zhuo Wenjun, a talented woman from western Shu decades later.

  With the scent of rice carried on the breeze, Zhang Yan stood in the wind and took a few deep breaths of the sweet air. "Where does Shangshan Si Hao live on the mountain?" she asked.

  The old farmer in a brown robe slowly finished plowing the last inch of land, looked at it with satisfaction, put the plow on his shoulder and walked up to the ridge. "Old man," Zhang Yan called him, "do you know if there is...?"

  The old farmer in a brown robe stood up straight, turned his head back, and his gaze met Liu Ying's. His eyes were clear and calm, with a red scarf tied around his white hair, forming a bun on top of his head. Under the bun was a spirited and alert face. After glancing at the approaching people for a moment, he continued to walk forward slowly, singing in a long voice: "The lofty mountains are high, the deep valleys are winding. The purple fungus can be eaten to satisfy hunger. In the distant Tang and Yu dynasties, where will I return? The carriage with seven horses has great worries. The fear of being rich and noble is not as good as being poor and having a free spirit."

  "What's wrong?" Zhang Yan complained slightly, while Liu Yingruo was deep in thought, and her lips curled up slightly.

  "Madam Zhang needn't worry," Qing Song said with a bow, "I accompanied Sixth Master here last time, although I didn't enter the hall, I'm familiar with the four old masters' residence."

  Qing Song led the group along the Shangshan mountain road, which was not particularly rugged and winding. After walking for less than half a stick of incense time, they circled out to a large platform, where several households were located, not very neat but also not chaotic.

  "The four old gentlemen all live here." Qing Song said, "I followed Sixth Master last time and learned that although they are known as the Four Elders together, in reality, Dongyuan Gong Tang Bing is the leader. Mr. Tang lives in the easternmost house."

  Liu Ying nodded and walked through the village, knocking on the copper ring at the top of the door of the easternmost house.

  After a while, there were faint footsteps in the courtyard. The person who came was humming a tune as she pushed open the gate. It was a woman of twenty-seven or eight years old, wearing a plain white dress and hairpins, with a pretty face.

  "Madam," Liu Ying bowed his hands in courtesy, "I am a native of Chang'an, and I have come especially today to request an audience with Old Man Tang."

  The woman smiled and shook her head at the entrance, indicating that the master of the house was unwilling to see anyone. "Sir, this lady is speechless," Qing Song said softly from behind.

  Liu Ying was taken aback for a moment, then said again, "Then please ask the lady to go in and report to Dongyuan Gong once more that this time's visitor is not the Lu Gongzi from last time." He smiled warmly and said softly, "My surname is Liu."

  The woman thought for a moment, nodded her head, made a gesture to let them wait where they were, and turned back inside. Before long, she came out again, made a welcoming gesture, but pointed only at Liu Ying alone.

  Liu Ying hesitated slightly, pointing at Zhang Yan and smiling, "Others are fine, but my nephew is extremely spoiled by our family, I'm not very reassured to leave him outside, can you bring him in together?"

  The young woman in plain clothes took a glance at Zhang Yan, saw that although she was young and small, she was born with a lovely and delicate appearance, and immediately felt three points of fondness and kindness in her heart.

  Liu Ying whispered to Qing Song to lead the way outside, and led Zhang Yan with a simple dress woman into the house. As soon as they entered the door, it was an empty front yard. From the inner gate, they entered the backyard, which was only about three or four square meters in size. It was tidy and clean. On the east side was a three-story wooden building, on the south side was the kitchen, and there was a well in front of the house. Directly opposite, in the middle of the hall with three openings and a raised beam structure, an old man with white hair sat on the couch in the hall.

  Liu Ying stepped back, pulled up his sleeves and bowed deeply, then stood up again and put his hands together in front of his forehead before lowering them. He performed the most solemn and respectful ceremony to pay homage to his respected teacher, saying "Your humble student Liu Ying has seen Tang sir."

  Tang Ke raised his head and replied calmly, "A humble villager, I didn't know the Crown Prince was visiting, I'm flustered." However, he accepted the courtesy with ease, without any signs of nervousness on his face. It turned out to be the old man who drove a water buffalo that they had met at the foot of the mountain earlier.

  He turned his head and ordered a woman in plain clothes, "Jing Niang, serve tea."

  Liu Ying smiled and sat down on the opposite seat, speaking eloquently, "The young master's father also rose from a humble background, eventually leading the heroes of the world to establish the great Han dynasty, freeing the people from the suffering of war and displacement. The young master is not talented, but has the honor of being the crown prince, although he dares not compare himself to his father, he also wishes that one day he can bring peace and stability to the country. Hearing that Mr. has great talent and reputation, I wish to invite Mr. to come out of retirement and assist the young master."

  The sound of wooden clogs echoed through the corridor as Jingniang entered with a tea tray, smiling as she placed a cup in front of each of them. Liu Ying picked up the bronze spoon and brought it to his mouth, but found that the tea porridge was clear and refreshing, although not comparable to the craftsmanship of the Eastern Palace Tea People, yet having a unique rustic freshness. Tang Gong also took a sip of tea, "Your Highness may know, in the past when your father was the King of Han, he also invited us, but we didn't come out of the mountains? —— Your Highness's ambitions are good, but we four people are already old and grey, and have long extinguished some worldly thoughts, only wishing to spend our remaining years on Mount Shang.

  "It's a pity that the Crown Prince has come in vain. The other day, the nephew of Empress Lü's family also came to invite me, and I let him return on the same night. As the Crown Prince is the future ruler of the world, he cannot be treated with such neglect. Although the mansion is small, there are still one or two guest rooms in the east wing, so it won't hurt to ask the Crown Prince and this young lady to stay overnight and leave tomorrow morning."

  Liu Yingwei felt disappointed and cupped his hands, saying, "Since that's the case, I dare not force what is difficult for others. Obedience is better than respect."

  The sky was slightly darker, Jingniang held a lantern and took Liu Ying and Zhang Yan through the long corridor into the east wing. The eaves of the east wing were very deep, with a wide space under them, and a row of farm tools were neatly arranged against the wall. Liu Ying looked at them thoughtfully.

  I actually like the simple and elegant rural life. Do you guys like it?

  Looking at the scores on the PK chart, I don't know whether to be happy or sad.

  I've decided to bury myself in writing to lift my mood. Writing some heartwarming scenes might just make me happy.

  I'm touched by your support, everyone.

  So, continue to ask for pink tickets. Sigh, it's unavoidable for the next month.

  If you have a pink ticket, would you mind going to vote for this book?

  I appreciate every vote.

  Tomorrow morning, the world is beautiful.

  Good night.