**040 song to the bottom of the peach blossom fan

Beauty is like jade, singing voice is also good, singing like a yellow bird crying when singing, if the pearl falls on the jade plate when chanting; The willow waist pulse swings, the Yingying water sleeve is thrown out lightly, and when he looks back, he smiles skillfully, and the embroidered fan half covers the peach face, and the delicate waves are endless.

In the past, he could only look at the beauties, but now he has the opportunity to stand aside and look closely, and the young talent can't take his eyes off it, and he has long been regarded as an idiot, and his mouth keeps repeating the mutter: "New moon and new moon"

The beauty called "New Moon" smiled lightly, her footsteps spun quickly, and a few whirls swirled to his side, and the light yarn in the crook of her arm was like a cloud, which was gently lifted by her, and floated to his face like catkins, which made his mind chaotic, and fell on the wasteland in his heart one after another

The daylight is good, the peach blossoms are bright and the catkins are flying, inside and outside the building, there are beautiful silk and bamboo orchestras, he only feels that the purple and red in the world are not as good as her delicate red face in the curtain, tossing and turning all day long

One day, still hugging each other as before, lips and teeth intertwined, the tenderness in her eyes was fleeting:

"Uhhh

Yin Hong bubbled down his chest, and his eyes suddenly rose with boundless shock, and he watched her draw her dagger.

Leaning over, she knelt at her feet, looking up at her humbly, her eyes drifting with ice, and she raised her lips at him happily.

"Why?" He clutched her sleeve tightly, and a wave of hot and thick blood rushed into her palm.

She was heartbroken, and resolutely cut off her robe and righteousness, regardless of it

――

"Soft Sigh"

In the cemetery, on a new earthen grave, stood a new cross made of oak, strong, thick and smooth.

In April, the sky has been gray. Through the bare woods, the tombstones in the open country cemetery could be seen from afar, and a cold wind rattled the porcelain wreaths placed at the foot of the cross.

The cross is inlaid with a large raised circular porcelain relief, in the middle of which is a portrait of a schoolgirl with joyful, vibrant eyes.

This is Olya Mechelskaya.

When she was a little girl, she didn't stand out among the girls in brown dresses and school uniforms; She is a handsome, wealthy, carefree little girl, her grades are not bad, but she is very naughty, the head teacher persuaded her, she always used it as a deaf ear, what else is worth mentioning? Later, she began to develop, literally one day at a time. At the age of fourteen, she had a thin waist and well-proportioned legs, and her □□ and all the lines of her body were already well-defined, and the kind of charm that human language had never expressed; By the age of fifteen, she had become a well-known beauty. How some of her girlfriends care about their hairstyles, how they can dress themselves, and how hard they try to make their every move seem reserved! But she didn't care about anything—whether it was ink stains on her fingers or blushing excessively, whether her hair was unkempt or if she ran and fell to expose her knees. She didn't care about her own qiē at all, but for some reason, in those last two years, all the charms were unconsciously concentrated on her alone, which made her stand out among her students—elegant temperament, fashionable dress, graceful demeanor, and ...... looking forward to bright eyes. In the school auditorium, no one dances as gracefully as Olya Mechelskaya; On the skating rink, no one's movements are as light as hers; No one has ever been so enthusiastic as she has been at the ball; And, for some reason, no one has ever been admired by junior girls like her. She unconsciously became a big girl, and unconsciously became a big celebrity, and there were gossips - that she behaved frivolously, that she could not live without a man who liked her, that there was a boy named Shen Xin who was drunk and infatuated with her, and that she seemed to love him too, but her attitude was so capricious that he once wanted to commit suicide......

In the last winter of Olya Mechelskaya's life, according to the people at the school, she looked ecstatic. That winter, there were snowflakes for a while, and the sun was shining for a while. It was bitterly cold for a while; The sun had set early behind the tall fir trees on the snowy campus, and the weather was always so sunny and bright that it was even colder and sunnier tomorrow, and you could walk along Cathedral Street and go ice skating in the Municipal Gardens; The night sky will be rose-colored, accompanied by music, and people will be shuttling through the ice rink; Of all these people, the one who seemed the most carefree and happy was Olya Mecherskaya. One day during her lunch break, she was rushing through the school auditorium with a gust of wind, chasing a group of first-grade girls screaming with joy when she was suddenly called to the headmistress's office. She stopped abruptly, exhaled deeply, and with a very feminine gesture (which was natural to her now), she straightened her hair, pulled the straps of her skirt up, and ran upstairs, her eyes shining. The headmistress, who looked quite young, but had some gray hair, was sitting quietly at her desk, knitting, with a portrait of the Tsar hanging on the wall behind her.

"Hello, Miss Mechelskaya," she said in French, still with her head bowed. "Unfortunately, this is not the first time, but I still have to call you here and talk to you about your character."

"Yes, ma'am." Olya replied as she walked towards her desk, her clear eyes looking at the headmaster, but her face expressionless; Then, with the kind of elegance that only she had, she bowed her knees.

"You don't pay much attention to what I say; I'm sorry, I'm already sure of that," said the headmistress, looking up and pulling at her knitted sweater, letting the yarn roll a few times on the lacquered floor, and Olya couldn't help but glance down curiously. "I don't want to repeat what I've said; Long story short. The headmistress continued.

Olya loved the spaciousness of the office – the warmth of the sparkling Dutch stove and the scent of lily of the valley on the desk on such a cold day. She sat silently waiting for the headmistress to continue, glancing with her eyes at the portrait of the young tsar standing in the middle of some illustrious parlor, and at the headmistress's neat perm that showed a milky white scalp in the middle.

"You're not a little girl anymore," said the headmistress, holding back the anger in her heart, and said in a stern tone.

"Yes, ma'am." Olya replied, innocently almost cheerful.

"But not a woman yet," the headmistress's tone became stricter, and her pale face flushed slightly with anger. "Let's start with this -- what is this hairstyle? This is a hairstyle for an adult woman! ”

"It's not my fault, ma'am, my hair is good," replied Olya, her hands gently stroking her well-combed hair.

"Oh, I see, it's not your fault!" The headmistress said. "It's not your fault for combing your hair like this, it's not your fault for using these expensive hairpins; It's not your fault that you wasted your parents' twenty rubles to buy a pair of shoes! But, I repeat, you've completely forgotten that you're just a schoolgirl......"

At this time, Olya interrupted her, her expression still innocent, calm and polite.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am, that you are wrong; I'm already a woman. Do you know whose fault it is? It was my father's friend and neighbor, and your brother Alexei Mikhainovich Malyukin, who had a ...... in the countryside last summer."

Less than a month after that conversation, a Cossack officer, ugly and vulgar in appearance, who had nothing in common with the circle of life to which Olya Mecherskaya belonged, shot and killed her on the platform of the railway station in front of a large group of passengers who had just arrived. Thus, the confession of Olya Mechelskaya, which stunned the headmistress, was completely confirmed. The officer, under the interrogation of the magistrate, claimed that Mechelskaya had deceived him, that she had been close to him, and that she had vowed to be his wife, but on the day of the murder, at the railway station where she was seeing off his trip to Novocherkassk, she suddenly told him that she had never loved him, and that all the words about marriage were merely teasing him; She also showed him a diary of her and Malyugin's experience.

"I looked at the pages of the diary in a hurry, and she walked around waiting for me to finish reading it, and then I shot her on that platform," the officer said. "This is the diary; Let's take a look at what she wrote on July 10 last year. ”

The diary reads: "It was past one o'clock in the morning. I slept soundly, but was immediately woken up again...... I'm a woman from now on! Father, Mother, and Toria, they all went into the city; I'm left alone. How happy a person is! In the morning I wandered through the gardens and the wilderness, and went into the forest; It was as if I was the only one in the world, and my mind had never been clearer in my life. I had lunch by myself, and then played the piano for a whole hour; The sound of the music made me feel as if I would live forever and be happier than anyone else in the world. Later, I fell asleep in my father's study, and at four o'clock Kaja woke me up and said that Alexei Mikhainovich had come. I'm so glad he came, and it's nice to be able to entertain him. He had arrived in a pair of Vyatkama, and they were so beautiful that they stood outside the porch all the time. He stayed, for it was beginning to rain, and he hoped that by evening the road would be a little dryer. He said that he regretted not meeting my father, but he seemed to be in high spirits, courteous to me like a young man who pleases women, and kept joking that he had fallen in love with me. When we went for a walk in the garden before afternoon tea, it was sunny again, and the sun was shining all over the wet garden, and it was shining, but still a little cold, and he took me by the arm, and said that he was Faust, and that he was with his Marguerite[2].

He was fifty-six years old, but he was still very handsome and dashing, and he always wore fashionable and expensive clothes.