Da Han Yan Hua Twenty-Three Fold Willow [3700 Add More]

  The boy, carrying the girl, slowed down his footsteps as he walked back to the quiet long street. He glanced at the familiar yet strange houses in the alley with a fascinated and distant gaze. After a long while, he said softly, "Ah Yan, you don't know, no matter how similar it is, if it's not, it will never become what it is."

  Everyone's hometown is unique and can't be faked by just changing its appearance. Luyi will make him feel closer to his hometown, but the hometown in his heart will always be only one, which is Fengpei far away in the sky.

  Even if he really goes back, it is no longer his hometown in his heart.

  The frail girl couldn't understand his thoughts, she was already drowsy and on the verge of falling asleep.

  "Uncle?" she called out one last time.

  "Huh?" he replied wearily.

  "It's all right."

  But uncle, only those who have experienced the same illness know what kind of taste the pain is. So uncle, haven't you also been bewildered and lost your way in the midst of the gathering and dispersal of loved ones and the changes in life?

  Every person born in this world cannot be smooth sailing forever. So he or she will eventually get their own wounds. There are a thousand kinds of happiness for happy people, and a thousand kinds of sadness for sad people. Other people's happiness is other people's happiness, one's own wound is still one's own wound, happiness can be shared with others, but wounds can only be licked quietly by oneself. It cannot disappear on its own because of someone else's comfort, in the end, it still has to be borne alone by us.

  On the third day, Liu Ying set out on his journey back to Chang'an.

  When the carriage with four horses drove out of the village, Zhang Yan sat behind the curtain, looking at Liu Zhong, the Marquis of Heyang, leading a black ox back from outside the village. "A Yan," Liu Zhong's eyes lit up as he blocked her way, "the cow plowing you mentioned last time, what kind of plowing method is it?"

  "It's... " Zhang Yan lifted the curtain and poked her head out, just about to excitedly tell him, but suddenly realized that this kind of purely technical work was absolutely not something a six-year-old girl like herself should know clearly about. She hastily smiled and said, "I'm not very clear on the specifics either, but it's all done this way in Qi Lu, Uncle can just ask someone to find out."

  "Mooooo..." The cow behind him raised its head and let out a long bellow.

  "What a hassle." Liu Zhong furrowed his brow, feeling like giving up, but Zhang Yan made an encouraging gesture and said with great enthusiasm, "Come on, Master Liu, strive to be the number one farmer in the Han Dynasty!"

  "Alright." In an instant, Liu Zhong's blood was boiling with excitement as he said firmly, "I'll send someone to investigate Qilu immediately after I turn back."

  The Great Han's First Farmer, The Great Han's First Farmer...

  Liu Zhong floated into the village with light footsteps, if only he could really do so, his third brother would be so proud and happy for him...

  "Just drop it." A disapproving voice came from the car ahead, "It's all just a bunch of nonsense to bother Second Uncle, if he gets worried about this, it'll be even worse."

  Zhang Yan chuckled and said, "I didn't hold a knife to Uncle Bo's throat and force him to do what I say. If he's not happy, can't he just pretend he didn't hear it? On the other hand, if I can make him a little happier, isn't that a good thing?"

  "You're something else," Liu Ying sighed helplessly.

  The imperial carriage traveled to a place twenty miles outside of Chang'an City, where it stopped at the banks of the Wei River for the horses to drink water and to wipe away the dust from the carriage. Only then could they enter Chang'an feeling refreshed and clean. Zhang Yan sat inside the carriage, lifted up the curtain to look outside, perhaps because she had finally untied the knot that had been tangled in her heart for so long. The sky looked exceptionally blue, the sunlight felt exceptionally warm on her skin, the air smelled exceptionally fresh, and even the scenery by the Wei River was exceptionally moving.

  The place is very close to Chang'an City, and it's also a place where people often say goodbye, so it's bustling. On the riverbank, a row of new willows are spitting out catkins, swaying gently in the clear water, reflecting the Ba Bridge above. The bridge is made of ancient wood that has withstood many years of wind and rain, still showing its age. From time to time, pedestrians and vehicles pass by on it. "Year after year, the willow catkins, the Ba Bridge's sorrowful farewell", this is the famous Ba Bridge that countless poets have written about throughout history.

  A proud person sees a proud scene. At this time, Zhang Yan's eyes have even diluted the sadness of people folding willows to bid farewell into a kind of clear and auspicious blessing. Even the little beggar lying under the Ba Bridge is pleasing to see.

  Wait, beggar?

  Under the bridge, a young beggar lay by the willow tree, no more than four or five years old. His clothes were thin and tattered, unable to ward off the cold wind, with his toes and elbows exposed. His face was also smeared with dust, but his eyes, though weak and listless, still shone with a hint of stubbornness and despair.

  Zhang Yan was taken aback for a moment.

  A group of people saw off a friend and happened to see a beggar girl. The woman's heart softened, and she asked her husband to give some money. So the man in white clothes reluctantly took out a few coins and told his servant to send them over. The servant responded, walked over with an air of superiority, threw the money in front of the little beggar girl, and said something. But the beggar girl didn't move at all, not even showing gratitude, nor did she look at him, which made the servant so angry that he was fuming.

  Zhang Yan let out a snort and hid behind the curtain, laughing.

  "Master," Qing Song reported from outside the carriage, "everything is ready, we can set off now."

  "Alright." Liu Ying replied and ordered the coachman to drive on. But then Zhang Yan suddenly said, "Wait for me a moment."

  "Uncle, do we still have food?" she asked, and without waiting for Liu Ying to answer, she directly scooped up a pile of fruit from the case on the carriage, jumped down from the carriage, ran to the beggar's face, thought for a moment, and then broke off a branch of green willow leaves dripping with dew.

  "Hey," the beggar heard someone calling him.

  He remained motionless, wanting to lie there until he died, unwilling to stay in this world without relatives for another day. But a sprig of green reached his forehead, and he felt the tender leaves of the willow branch brushing against his forehead, still moist with dew.

  Isn't it over yet? He endured for a while, but couldn't bear it anymore. He turned around and glared at her, only to see a face as pale as a snow doll.

  "Do you know why people who come here to see someone off always break a willow branch to give to the person?" Xuewa asked him.

  He shook his head slightly, as if he didn't know.

  "Because," Snow Doll said with a smile, a bright red mole on her left ear, like a drop of blood that was about to fall, "the word 'liu' has the same pronunciation as 'liú', they want to tell the person they are sending off that there is someone in this world who is reluctant to let him go."

  "Here," she handed the willow branch in front of herself, "for you."

  "I have pears, tangerines, rice cakes, and sugar-roasted chestnuts here," Zhang Yan hastily piled all the food from her bosom in front of the beggar, apologetically saying, "I know that for someone who's been hungry for a long time, the best thing is to drink a bowl of thin porridge. But on the road, it can't be done. Just make do with this, and eat slowly, don't gobble it down all at once, or it will only lead to trouble."

  "Ah, my uncle is calling me, I'll go first." She quickly stood up, patted the food crumbs on her clothes, turned around and ran back, without seeing the beggar's gloomy gaze behind her.

  This snowman is just like the girl in his heart, equally young and tender, equally transparent as snow, equally pure and kind-hearted. The only difference lies in the self that encounters them.

  He closed his eyes in agony.

  When he met her girl, he was poor but still had hope; now he has nothing and even feels tired of living.

  Only a greenish tint is left on the cheek, which is the tender green of the willow branch.

  "Zhang's thoughts are quite good," Qing Song leaned against the carriage, indifferently gazing at the distant scene, with a hint of helplessness hidden in his eyes, suddenly saying to Zhang Yan, "But under this sky, there are so many pitiful people, where can we save them all?"

  Zhang Yan was taken aback for a moment, then turned back and smiled, "But at this time, I only saw one of him."

  If you're not even willing to lift a hand, how can you talk about governing the world?

  Qing Song turned over and mounted his horse, looking back at the beggar by the willow tree under the bridge. His complexion was dull, but beside him was inserted a willow branch, which was bright and seemed to be endless hope.

  The green pine has a thoughtful expression.

  Suddenly found that train tickets are also pink.

  Sweat, asking for pink tickets to continue.