(It's almost the New Year, everyone is on holiday, right?)

I don't know if everyone has grabbed the ticket? Think about the bloody scene of fighting for a ticket, and I feel so emotional. However, the joy of grabbing a ticket is indescribable, right?

Or, are you already on your way home? Carrying large bags and small bags, each according to their own goals, squeezing in the sea of people going home, taking the car and the train, getting off the train and taking the tractor, and finally arriving home feels good, right?

I don't have to squeeze the train this year, but I have to take a bus and a bouncing car, then an ox cart, and finally I have to walk a few miles, climb a mountain, and cross a river to get home. -- I'm exaggerating -- please ignore me.

In short, everyone has finally gone home, and those who can't go home have something to do, all relax and have a good New Year!

For the New Year, just give a ticket or something, and the language salary will be collected as a red envelope. Thank you!)

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Hearing the voice, the woman in white was startled, turned her head, and met the bottomless gaze of the man in purple. She followed the man's gaze and turned to the paper lotus in the lake.

The purple-clothed man suddenly laughed and said, "You actually put paper lotus in the lake like a young girl with a spring color?"

The woman in white listened to the sneering voice of the man in purple, a trace of sadness and shame appeared on her face, and she turned her face away from him.

The man in purple still looked at the paper lotus in the lake, and said with interest: "What kind of name did you write, let me see it?"

As he spoke, he waved his hand, but his sleeves flew out like a long training belt, and the lake was shaken, and the wind actually hit in the opposite direction, rolling the paper lotus to the shore in an instant.

The man in purple was about to brush his sleeves and roll up the paper lotus, but was anxiously knocked down by the woman in white.

The woman in white waved her sleeves and sent the paper lotus far away to the middle of the lake, and then turned up a big wave and sank the paper lotus to the bottom of the lake.

The woman in white was panting, her eyes bursting with a look of shame, while the man in purple looked fixedly at the flat surface of the lake, and his face became cold: "Actually, if you don't say it, I also know what you wrote." It's just that I don't know whether to be happy or unhappy......"

The woman in white froze.

The man in purple turned his head and looked at her, his face began to become cold, and his eyes seemed to be full of pity and complicated feelings......

The memory came to an abrupt end.

Han Moyu hugged his head and gasped for breath. Why do you want me to remember? Why revive lost memories?......

No matter what happened, I didn't want to think about it again, I didn't want to see that person's face, I didn't want to hear his name, I didn't want to know anything about him!

……

Sleepless night.

Early in the morning, before dawn, Han Moyu got up, walked out of the door with the piano in his arms, and walked towards the back of the house.

Follow the path, through the fields of golden rape flowers, and further back there is a small hill.

She climbed the hill and sat down on a high ground against a rock. The entire Wujia Village is in full view.

At this time, it is the season when the trees are full of flowers. She looked into the distance, where there was a pond, and from a distance, it looked like an emerald set in gold, incomparably beautiful.

Around, the turquoise grass is full of unknown pink flowers, clusters, patches, like a red glow on the ground, shrouding the jade-like earth, which is extremely beautiful.

A breeze blew, and Han Moyu felt extremely comfortable.

She closed her eyes slightly, smiled slightly, and held out her hand. It was so familiar, as if it had been with her for many years. A series of melodies sounded in her head, elegant and beautiful.

Han Moyu closed his eyes and stretched out his hand, plucking the strings like a demon. However, there was no beautiful music that she expected, and the beautiful strings made a monotonous and dry sound under her plucking, which was not beautiful.

Han Moyu was startled by the music he played, blushed, and hurriedly looked around. Thankfully, no one saw it.

She reached out and wiped her sweat. Frustrated, it turns out that the dreams are all lies. I thought I was possessed by a demon and could learn by myself. It seems that I was stupid.

Han Moyu smiled self-deprecatingly, forget it, don't make a fool of yourself here, the province has polluted such a beautiful environment.

Han Moyu was about to get up, but she heard a laugh behind her, turned her head, and saw a half-grown teenager with a back of firewood, leaning on a tree and looking at her and laughing.

Han Moyu recognized him, he was the only son of his neighbor Uncle Wu, Wu Xiao.

The children of the whole village, except for Chen Sihu, counted Wu Xiao who was the closest to him, and he was also the best for himself.

Whenever she was bullied, Wu Xiao was always the first to jump out and stand up. But this Wu Xiao has a very bad mouth and often makes jokes about her.

"What's so funny!" Han Moyu was a little embarrassed, covered the lyre tightly, and was about to leave.

Thinking that he had just made a fool of himself and was seen by Wu Xiao, Han Moyu was ashamed to want to get into the cracks in the ground. So, she turned her head and didn't look at Wu Xiao, but only cared about herself.

"Wu Moyu, what are you covering? I've seen it all. Wu Xiao smiled, "Take it and show me, what kind of novelty is it?"

Han Moyu clutched the burden tightly, not wanting Wu Xiao to see it.

"It's stingy. Wu Xiao looked disdainful and said, "It's too much buddy." You Wu Moyu said by himself, every time I Wu Xiao have something good, don't I share it with you? Every time someone bullies you, it's not me Wu Xiao who blocks it for you? Now that you have a good thing, you forget your buddy?"

Han Moyu listened, slowly and reluctantly took out the thing, blushed and handed it over: "Oh, I want to see it for myself." Don't laugh at me. ”

But Wu Xiao exclaimed, "Wow, what kind of treasure is this? It's so beautiful! Is it yours?"

Wu Xiao threw down the bundle of firewood on his back, grabbed the corner of his clothes and wiped his hands, and then hugged the lyre, like a treasure.

"The lyre. A kind of musical instrument, I heard that the young lady in the city is good at this. Han Mo said, reaching out and plucking the strings.

"It's so good, where did you get it?Did your father buy it for you?Can you play?" Wu Xiao asked, then smiled stupidly, reached out and scratched the back of his head, and said to himself: "Where can you play, I just heard ......"

"Did you deliberately embarrass me?"

"No, no, oops, Moyu, don't be angry, I didn't mean that...... Actually, you just played pretty well, but a little rusty...... It's good to practice...... Who doesn't learn from themselves?"

Wu Xiao hurriedly said, "Look, with a big old man like me, even if I find a famous teacher to let me study for a year, I may not be able to play the level you just had...... Besides, you are still self-taught...... It's really good already, I didn't mean to make fun of you......"

"Really?" asked Han Moyu with some uneasiness.

"Of course it's true! As long as you practice again, you will definitely become a great musician in the future!" Wu Xiao said.

"Then, when I come to practice again, don't eavesdrop!" Han Mo said.

"Okay, it must be! Then when you finish practicing, you must be the first to play it to me!" Wu Xiao said, stretching out his hand.

"Good. Deal. Han Moyu stretched out his hand and high-fived Wu Xiao as an oath.

"By the way, it's my birthday, this piano is a gift from Fat Tiger, what gift are you going to give me as a good buddy?" Han Moyu asked with slanted eyes, and began to shamelessly beg for gifts.