Yun Jian remembered his first encounter with Butterfly Xiaohua. That scene seemed to have been carved into his bone marrow, and he didn't know when he would forget it. Maybe until death closes his eyes.

But until then, he didn't even have a premonition about it.

At that time, Jinchengan was sitting in the middle of winter, and he didn't know that he would usher in a famous singer.

At that time, Fengyun had not yet met the buds of the branches.

At that time, the Tantai family held a funeral.

The literary name is the same as the cloud sword, the genius of Jincheng, and the Taiyi. His mother died.

Lantai is brilliant in literature, but he is a little stupid in terms of human feelings. After his mother died, he was even more stunned. He even thought that he himself had probably fainted for a while, because there was a memory that was blank for him. By the time he regained consciousness, the servant had already cleaned up the mess in the house, borrowed a flatbed truck to load it, and the neighbor woman who came to help combed his mother's hair, washed her face, and even put on a clean robe. They all testified that he did not faint, but just sat next to him and was in a daze for a long time.

They advised the Tai to cheer up quickly and handle the funeral well?

"Funeral ......" Yutai couldn't react for a while. How does this work? As a filial son, isn't it just "just mourning"?

"There's a lot going on!" They wrenched their hands and counted to him: to report the funeral, to decorate the mourning hall, to buy linen cloth, to buy white flowers, to buy paper money, to buy incense and candles, to find a coffin, to find a cemetery, to go to Lizheng to eliminate his nationality, to find someone to do things, to hire someone to carry the coffin, to find someone to burn white mats...... The more he listened, the more he felt desolate and hopeless. I can't go back to hate.

There was a group of well-wishers who relieved him of his troubles. At that time, the people in the house suddenly felt that there were broken bricks and rubble flying outside, curses and roars, even though the fireworks of the New Year were not so lively - wait a minute, those guys outside really lit a few handfuls of firecrackers and threw them into the house!

So everyone jumped out like rats with their feet and paws, not to mention the scorching heat, the offender was gossiping, and the money borrowed by the Tai family was not repaid. Capital crime, capital crime! That fierce look. It was as if they were going to be executed on the spot.

Yun Jian and his sons were drinking in the Jin Pavilion.

In the middle of winter, the air is cold and transparent, and you can hear the crisp sound of ice cream with your hand, and the sun is white. Slippery on the ground. The stove in the pavilion was blazing. The aroma of the blue musk deer was strong and forced out, and Yun Jian drank a few more glasses of wine, and his body was hot. Suddenly inexplicably irritable, wrapped in a fox fur to go outside to breathe, and saw a group of people on the street running over to watch the show: "Uncle Nangong has collected debts before the holiday!" "Who's urging?" "Shodai?" "Which egg Tai B?" "Which one else? The genius of the Tantai family! The living god of poetry! "Ah, he! How could Uncle Nangong disrespect Sven and give him a leniency? "It was because of Sven that he lent him money. I've borrowed it intermittently for so many years, and it's scary, his mother just died, and it costs money to go out of the funeral, so don't you lose all your family foundation? Uncle Nangong must be in a hurry! "It's useless to force it! Do you want him not to go out of the funeral? Poor scholars, there is no money to kill! "I guess, Uncle Nangong is planning to snatch him back." "Duh! The talented man of Tantai is not a flower girl, what if he snatches it back? "He can write poetry! Lock him up and tell him to only write poems for Uncle Nangong, isn't that face-saving? "This ......"

"Wow!"

The horses galloped like the wind. The knight on the horse, his robe fluttering, his momentum was awe-inspiring.

"Ah, Second Master Xie!" "Where are you going?" "It's a good show!"

Idlers have a great time.

After all, their footsteps can't match the speed of the horse's hooves, and they can't catch up with Uncle Nangong's ability to judge the situation. When these idlers arrived, Uncle Nangong had already shook hands with Xie Yunjian and Yutai, as if he had always been so harmonious. The Tsing Yi ruffians next to them were laughing together, and it was rare that they didn't burst out of any foul language, so they stood on both sides very respectfully, if they were given a few more feather fans and golden halberds, they could simply fill the honor guard.

Xie Yunjian sent Uncle Nangong away, and solemnly invited him to enter the Xie Mansion School. It is difficult to resist. The funeral of the old lady of Shantai is naturally based on the cloud sword, and the Xie Mansion will bear it.

This thing was done happily, and the fox friends and dog friends surrounded Yunjian and said that they should have a drink.

Yun Jian said: "How can this be true!" "Let's go to the old lady of Shantai first, and make incense.

So a cadre of people and others followed the fish through the incense, and the wreaths came and everything. Bang Lian, Zhan Tai thought that he was enough to write a court. In order to avoid the whole audience being his handwriting, Yun Jian and other people helped to write, and there was also "Sanskrit singing is like asking questions, and it is also affectionate"; "Although the spring and autumn period breaks through the bottom of a thousand layers, the needlework still has a heart", "The streamer destroys the dream, and the fairy pays the ancient road; Weeping farewell branches, providence cold incense hills" and other good sentences.

Waiting for the platform to pick up the pen, but don't look at it, on the paper straight down, full of smoke, must be made nineteen couplets, is actually the word "Ciying", in the couplet arbitrarily interspersed into an elegy. Usually the poetry club has a way of playing, called "embedded sentences", generally limited to one embedding method, to play the most difficult, in the seven-character sentence in turn embedded seven times, called "seven singing", is already the limit. Nineteen songs were sung in unison, and the embedding combination was exhausted!

The guests were dumbfounded, and they all said that this must be passed down through the ages. It's just that he was covered by his own body, and no one could see it all, so he was going to wait for him to finish writing, and then use it to cut it and enjoy it. Who knew that after he finished writing, he threw it into the basin where the paper money was burned. People couldn't save them, so they blew their burning fingers, stamped their feet and asked, "What are you doing here!" ”

He didn't answer.

He never wrote those couplets again. It has become the swan song of Guangling.

Only the eyes have a good memory, write down a few sentences, such as "Cizhu is a shadow in the wind and the sky, and the evening Xuan is like a fragrance after the rain", such as "the shadow of the long ditch is gone", such as "the old clothes are still printed with ci marks", such as "the crane shadow is sad in the wind and wood", such as "the dream of death, the sound of the step", such as "the moon fades, the spring breeze is remembered", such as "Baowu Xingshen", such as "the frost of the bamboo" - these have been handed down and have become the universal elegy for the death of women since then. The paper shop deliberately copied these down, and what "book book" side by side, if someone has a dead woman in the family, and he can't write a couplet, he will order a few pairs according to this.

At this point, people sighed that the platform was burned with foresight - if it burned a little later, I am afraid that not all the words will be remembered and plagiarized! It's okay to plagiarize something else, but it's no wonder he's stingy. After this burning, the nineteen singing couplets are only enjoyed by the old lady of Shantai. When the old lady was alive, her fate was hardworking, and when she died, she had this precious elegiac connection, which was also considered a full grief!

-- Everyone not only praised the literary and thoughtful thinking of the Tai, but also praised the cloud sword for sympathizing with each other, pity and saving talents, and did a good job! To celebrate it, they said: Have a drink and go!

In order to drink happily, they also found a few good girls who can play and sing, and they are really the best in this industry! The so-called rakuka. Some serious women think that the female actors are too lowly, and claim that even if they are poor, they will not do the tricks if they are killed? Hey! There is a difference between a trick and a prostitute! The kind of prostitute who splits his legs can do it with a hole. But now these first-class female dancers they are looking for must have talent, true Lan Xinhui, cultivation in the previous life, and color and art, so that they can achieve it.

The venue for drinking should also be good. They found the best place in the area: the Immortal Pavilion.

The group was about to enter the pavilion, and they were all stunned.

Those who have not yet stepped on the stairs do not move, those who step on the stairs hold on to the railing and twist their bodies, and those who have already gone up the stairs twist their bodies like twists and look out.

Look at the restaurant opposite, a pair of guests.

One man and one woman, one in front and one behind.

The woman was as thin as a wisp of smoke, and was draped in a wide, deathly simple robe, with only a silver hairpin stuck in her head, which was not enough to hold all her black hair, and the rest of it was scattered to her waist. Her eyes were watery, her lips were pale, and her cheeks were red, like the remnants of rouge.

At that moment, the geisha who were both beautiful and artistic were compared to a handful of ashes, which could be blown away by the wind, and no one would care about it.

That woman is really a woman among women, and only she deserves the title of "beauty".

But she probably doesn't have a lot of money, and the only silver hairpin on her body is decorated with it, and she only patronizes the restaurant opposite. The restaurant, just to rub the light of the Immortal Pavilion, opened on the opposite side, whether it is wine or decoration, the price is much lower!

As for the man who followed the woman's footsteps...... Phew, what kind of man is that! He has stepped from middle age to old age, with a bloated waist, a beard denser than hair, and a red rosacea. This ......

It's like a flower stuck in cow dung. It's a bottle of wine poured into a dung pit!

Anyone who has eyes and nose can't bear such a thing!

If there is a good deed, he plucked the cloud sword: "The second son might as well do good things to the end, save that beauty!" ”

"Nonsense," Yun Jian still sanist, "do you want me to rob a woman from a good family in broad daylight?" ”

"It's not broad daylight." A bastard pointed to the sky, "It's going to be dark soon." ”

"It doesn't have to be a good family," the other bastard continued, "maybe it's a concubine who someone forcibly bought!" Don't you see the beauty with a sorrowful eyebrow, and a thousand knots in your heart? ”

There was a sigh of approval.

"Stop." Cloud Sword beckoned everyone to take their seats. But the wine was tasteless, the food was like wax, and the music of the geisha was not as good as it used to be. Finally, Yun Jian smiled bitterly and said, "Sisters, is it because my ears are bad today, or are you playing absent-mindedly?" ”

The musicians stopped, laughed, and persuaded: "It's really the beauty on the other side, the colorful phoenix and the crow, even we are distressed when we see it." Second son, if it's convenient for you, why don't you really ask. If you can save her, you will be able to create a seventh-level floating slaughter. ”

-- The beauty is so beautiful that even the musicians pity it!

Yun Jian had no choice but to comply with the will of the crowd and go to the opposite restaurant. (To be continued......)