A continuous plain, stretched out under the sky, without hills, as calm as the sea on a day without wind or waves.

The wheat turned yellow, and the morning sun covered the fields with its red gold brilliance, and a golden light surged up in the boundless waves of golden wheat.

A vast savannah, boundless, and the scent of the earth in the breeze blows a large area of crops like ripples.

Outside the window, the black Liaodong Plain is bare with a broad and thick chest, rough and fit. The bulging mountain beams are like the muscle bonds on its body, and the towerhead grass on the meadow is like pores.

Standing in the vast wilderness and looking up, its color is even clearer, elegant, and thorough, like a pleasing painting, a melodic music, and a lyrical poem with a fresh style.

There have been great changes in the fields, the golden rice sea has changed from orange to pale yellow to gray-brown, and the jade banana forest has changed from emerald green to sea green and dark green again.

After the seedlings were planted, I went to the shore to take a look, shouting, a large patch, under the blowing of the wind, like a green and fluffy carpet, I really want to roll on it.

On the sweet grassland, the yurts are dotted, the smoke curls, the eyes of the sheep are loud, and the horses are neighing.

Patches of colorful wildflowers dot the grassland, like a large colorful carpet.

Is this the prairie? I leaned in front of the window of an off-road jeep and stared at the sea of green in front of me, as if I was on a long-distance ship riding the wind and waves.

The vast prairie connected to the sky, and as far as the eye could see, there was no trace of it, except for the occasional dog barking or two from afar, and the wind moved lazily and slowly on the sea of grass, silently.

The boundless grassland seems to be clothed with a layer of veil, and each blade of grass is inlaid with a thin gold edge. From the deep grassland, a song as thin as a gossamer slowly floated. Probably a shepherd. A flock, nay, a moving flock of sheep, slowly like a cloud, covers the fields. Gently, a curling puff of smoke rises.

In the summer fields, the sun is shining, there is no wind, and the steamer is like a steamer, so stuffy that people can't breathe. The green seedlings are listlessly deaf and pulling their heads; The frogs croaked desperately at the edge of the ridge. Hearing it makes people even more upset; The loaches were also so hot that they rolled up and down in the ditch, spitting small bubbles. My head was covered with sweat, flowing down my face like a stream, dripping on the ridges......

It was in the field that I became acquainted with wheat, barley, buckwheat, mung beans, soybeans, black beans and other crops. It was in the field that I learned the procedures of plowing, harrowing, sowing, planting, and harvesting crops, and the field was the first teacher who helped me understand the world and look at the white Hulunbuir prairie from afar.

If you happen to see the magnificent scenery of the northern country, you can also see the sheep slowly rolling towards the sky, slowly blending into the snow-capped prairie and the herdsmen swaying.

Whipping. Riding on a horse, singing and listening to bold songs, you will unconsciously enter a wonderful reverie. Jujube red horses, gray horses, and flower horses are chasing each other in the snow. Like strings of rolling pearls on the savannah.

The fields that had been harvested were so empty that there were no full crops, the grass withered, and patches formed mottled colors in the fields. It's like never going through life. This vast field seems to have been abandoned, but it will store up hope for a season.

The vast field resembles a girl dressed in verdant clothes, and I often pounce on her. The grass is green. The trees are green, the vegetables are green, the crops are green, and the green makes people feel comfortable and happy.

When I was a child, I used to play in the spring fields, race and wrestle with my friends on the meadows at the top of the fields, look for white and red wildflowers on the embankments and ditches, and catch yellow and black butterflies on grass stems and vegetable stalks.

The vast Northwest Plateau. Under the cover of the night with high clouds and bright moons and sparse stars, it looks more empty and boundless. It shows the unique politeness of the tall and flat plateau -- the beautiful nature of the plateau, and countless beautiful and shiny silver-white clouds flickering like white roses in the sky above the plateau.

The autumn field is like a mother who eats with a large plate, I have taken a lot of food from her plate, and when I am hungry, I pick sweet potatoes to eat, pull radishes to eat, and burn a fire to roast and eat ears of grain; When you are thirsty, you can pick wild melons to eat, find goat's milk beans to eat, fold the sweet stalks in sorghum and eat them as sugarcane, anyway, every qiē is ready-made.

As far as the eye can see, there are dark green rice paddies and cotton fields full of colorful flowers. The corn harvest is near, but the vines of the potato are thriving. Under the sun, the whole field was filled with a layer of blue moisture, like a deep breath in the crops.

After the assassination from the desert, Yan Hong officially changed to take a plane, saw all over the rivers and mountains of China, and the customs changed, but at this moment Yan Hong was not in a hurry to return to Huangshan, but all the way called the Phoenix's flight went straight to Yan Kingdom.

The heat is almost over, and it's time to start arranging.

On the main street of Jicheng, it is as prosperous as it was back then, but it lacks the glitz and comfort of the past, and has a touch of twilight and depression.

The old country is gone, and the people who live here have not been able to enjoy the same treatment as the old Qin people, and it is even more difficult not to live in the former Yan country.

Facing the pitch-black battle flag day by day, as well as the iron armor of the Qin State Iron Army, there was a shadow lingering in the hearts of all the Yan people.

Like a fish in the throat, like a sword hanging upside down, living under the harsh control of the Qin law anytime and anywhere, the black face, the car cracked, and so on made the Yan people unacceptable cruel decrees, making the prosperity of this Jicheng look so false and empty.

Walking on the once familiar street, the three girls who had changed their appearance deliberately slowed down, so that the man next to them carefully recalled the taste of their hometown.

Cloth villages, restaurants, tea houses. Even the once familiar pawns of the peddlers seem to have not changed, but they have become a party of people's hearts, and they have been backlogged for too long, and they need to vent to their heart's content.

"Yan Lang, don't be sad, this qiē will be fine in the future." Da Si Ming held Yan Hong's hand and snuggled up to him, hoping that his body temperature would warm his wounded heart, "I know, it's just that I haven't come back for so many years, and I'm just a little uncomfortable, so let's get down to business now!" Yan Hong took a deep breath, trying to calm his chaotic mood, trying to suppress his hatred and anger against the people of Qin.

At this moment, Yan Hong seems to have completely abandoned the identity of a traverser, and has become a complete northern high-roller, the remnant of the Yan Kingdom, with only nostalgia for his homeland in his heart, and only memories of the past.

Time is still passing, the time will not wait for anyone, he still has a lot to do, his steps do not stop, with a heavy heart, walked for a quarter of an hour, and finally reached the destination of this trip.

A gilded plaque [Sufu].

stared at it for a long time, only listening to Yan Hong muttering.

"This place was supposed to be called Taifu Mansion!" (To be continued......)

PS: The palms are frostbitten, so uncomfortable to say, winter...... Winter...... Pit Man...... Oh no...... Winter of the pit hands