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Chapter 82 Love Fairy Tale

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    ?

    Nursery rhymes of love, the dream is on the other side, but I can't make it

    The wind gradually picked up.

    When there is more rain, the wind naturally has the courage to make noise.  It is a bewitching spirit, prompting the rain, and flying ravagingly to corners that are usually hard to reach.  Even my window sills, covered by the tall pomegranate tree, were wet.

    Half of the window lattices that have been blackened by the years have been repainted, exposing the fresh wooden muscles.  The other half is still covered in black dust, reflecting the mottled black brick wall.

    The rain shrank the originally spacious world to a narrow space that can only accommodate a small desk and a small bed.  The gray light at dusk made the low house even lower and lower.  My heart is very depressed.

    The rainy season is the most lonely time.  Loneliness makes me often feel that I am like a small boat, a small boat wandering aimlessly on the vast and boundless sea, without seeing the sky, the other shore, hope, or support.  Panicked and anxious, looking left and right, hopeless and hopelessly tired.

    Several times, I mistook the blood-stained frost cloud for a trestle bridge, and the joy was shattered as the cloud dispersed.  A few times, I mistook the rainy clouds in the sky for a dense forest, imagining that a bird would fly out of the dense forest with an arrow, and go to the free sky, singing my dreams and joys.

    But loneliness often reminds me of an old man.  His white hair was mixed with some black hair, and even his beard was gray with black and white mixed.  A felt hat, a penny, a raft, a small boat, a pipe, a thatched cottage, and a flock of ducks and geese. Such a simple sketch describes all his personal wealth.

    In this half-farming, half-fishing and hunting village, he is the only one who only idles about fishing.  He relied on the food of the whole village to raise money to help him live.

    We don't know his name, and we don't care if he has one.  "Old man Liu." Everyone yelled like this.  Although his surname is Liu, he is not from my family, so such an old man is even more alone.

    I heard from the adults that he came to the village after the war, and he was an extremely low-key person.  He seldom chats with people, and besides, few villagers who are tired of farming all day long have the time to get close to him.  Therefore, regarding his previous life, we only know that he fought in wars.  His history, then, is no longer exhaustive.  To be honest, the villagers didn't care what his past was like.

    We children are very familiar with his wealth. He is rich throughout the year, and some are free.  His leisure is envied by the farmers, and it is even envied and even envied by us children.  The big difference is that we are able to play only with the permission of the adults. Only when we have no work or leisure time that children can do, can we seize the opportunity to enjoy playing.  But in his free time, he sits under the sycamore tree for a whole year, month and day, smoking a big pot of dry tobacco, fishing on the trestle bridge, or riding a wooden raft boat by the river.  Release ducks and geese, catch fish and crabs.

    The children are jealous of him, but they will not invite him to be malicious or even careless. They will become friends with him and compete for enjoyment, his unique leisure.

    Several half-grown children scrambled for his long pole to chase away his ducks and geese.  The ducks and geese were already uneasy when they saw strangers, and when they saw the long poles flying all over the sky and hitting them head-on, they were all frightened and ran around.  Immediately, the shallow sand, the reeds, and the muddy potholes were filled with the cries and flapping of the panicked ducks and geese.

    With short duck legs, dragging its heavy body, it swings back and forth and bumps up and down in the rough.  A few bright yellow ducklings accidentally slipped and fell into the mud.  After a while, they poked their heads out of the deep water one by one, and then surfaced. The yellow color of their bodies was already the color of muddy mud.  They suddenly discovered that this is an excellent place to play, so, with a somersault, they turned their bodies into the water again.

    There are also a few ducklings who are exhausted and seem to have realized the mystery. They are busy swinging their calves, wobbling to a stop, and rubbing into the water along the slippery slope.  From time to time, the mouth is still screaming "crack".  A few more big ones also came over, and the water in the mud finally became as smooth as mud.

    But he sucked on his cigarette and laughed "hehe".  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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