I don't know how long the night has come, the city has already fallen asleep, and there is only one light left in the Wu family compound.
"Meow - meow"
A cat language that is more charming than a woman, like the tip of a thin tongue, licking the honey of the night lightly.
In the secluded courtyard, the lights reflect the boundless and lonely space. In the depths of the flow of light and shadow, there are three plain faces of women shaking, as if they are illusions in a mysterious world.
The dark night makes the high-walled courtyard even deeper, and beyond the illusion, there is an uninhabited world. The wind swept the streets and alleys, secretly surging, exerting force silently. The sound of the wind, the sound of the car, the barking of dogs lurking everywhere, and the river of sound mixed into it, slowly undulating.
The women in the light, chirping, doing trivial things with their hands.
The river of sound gave them the illusion that their life, their fantasy, had just begun. They gradually became excited, their eyes were bright, their faces were glowing, and they slowly approached each other.
The large living room between the north and south houses is like a dream theater with a special gloomy atmosphere. It is the core of the old house and the place where the women melt away.
Women have a long-standing habit of going to bed late, and when night comes, their rhythm slows down. The reluctance to time, the nostalgia for the night, and the illusory longing to be away from the day made a soothing hum in their throats. Their movements are slow, like water sleeves dragging on the stage. The expression is soft, with a slight smile, each one is more charming than the other. The big white cat beside them knew all kinds of movements by heart. It hides during the day and is active at night. The lights are dancing, the three women are talking softly, and the white cat also meows in response, and it has a close relationship with them.
As if the curtain was opened, the spring of time bubbling out the background music, the women, each with their own keys to time, gathered here, told and listened, and opened the secret holes of their lives one by one on the tip of their tongues¡ª ¡ª
two
"I am the landlord, the master. No, this is secondary. The main reason is that I am older than you, so let me say it first. The people in the yard, you all call me Sister Wu. Actually, my real name is Yujin. Yujin, has a nice voice, as if people in Shanghai say 'now'. I like these two words and cherish it, because it was given by my father who has never met. I always want to hear him say The sound of these two words, when I was young. No, I never had his voice, and I don¡¯t have any memory about him. Originally, I should get some knowledge and experience about men from him, but I didn¡¯t Get any pointers. I'm just an illegitimate daughter, a person who is going to be hidden from the beginning, in the words of you literati, the father's life is always a cover, and I am the content of the book, but, the book is always I can't open it Some stories seem to be true, but they seem to have never happened; some stories have never happened, but I believe it is true.
"How many years! No matter what, all the time, sounds, and faces that have slipped away from me, I will recall them one by one from beginning to end, repeatedly, like flipping through a photo album, like sewing a piece for many years The old clothes from before are old, but they are still gorgeous and warm. Women, don¡¯t throw away the things you have used, especially clothes, the older the more precious. Years, ten years, cool, soft Take it and smell it, it still smells like you! It is connected with your life! If there is a place where the thread is off, it must be sewn properly. I am very careful and careful, and I have to take it easy when pulling out the thread. Do you have Do you do this? You are too young, you always throw things casually, it is easy to like the new and dislike the old, just like a man, hateful! You have to cherish your own things, especially those muslin and silk, that is my baby, it will always be the most personal The most comfortable, wrapped around your body, like the skin on top of your skin, the soul in the depths of your soul"
Yu Jin rested her elbows on her knees, and her slender hands were bony and claw-like, tightly clutching a cup of weak tea, covering the lingering warmth. Her voice is like a weak string, sometimes vague, sometimes clear, telling Mina and Qiu Zhi the most beautiful memories of her life.
The smell of old sundries, the smell of rotten cotton cloth, the smell of rat droppings in the corner, gradually fade away
Going back in time, the smell of dust under the sun in the wider world permeates warmly. It is the real life in the past, the endless scenes of the city streets, they are like dreams, they have existed, and they are fleeting. It is a day longer than a hundred years, it is nothingness and emptiness It is a dream, warmer than a cat's fur, softer than Qiuzhi's eyes. It's an indescribable love, come on??Red feels uncomfortable in the heart. She lowered her head and followed him. The crowd followed carefully, as solemnly as if participating in a major event. They sent her to the cotton mill.
There are various legends about Yujin's subsequent stories. She may be like a solar eclipse that occurred in a certain year, which deeply stirred the hearts of countless men in Yucheng, and then was completely forgotten by them.
The closest to the truth is that the mysterious factory flower in the cotton spinning factory was picked by the factory manager's pockmarked son who suffered from smallpox, and was to be raised in his greenhouse. This seems to be very good, she is alone, and the power and connections of the factory director's family extend to all corners of Yucheng like the roots of the banyan tree in the south. (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com