Three days later, the Gufia steppe.

The nailed wheels ran over the soft grass, the carriages jolted in the field, and five carriages, three carrying goods and two carrying passengers, headed south.

The gray wooden carriage was very ordinary, and the drivers were several humans, and if you looked closely, you would see that these people were the same bards who had performed and invited Lorain Hill at the Fire Convention.

The young coachman drove his horse leisurely, and as the sun rose, he felt a little hungry, and shouted back.

"Sister, I'm hungry~"

"Find something to eat yourself." A female voice said angrily.

"I'm busy right now."

"Are you my sister after all? I shouldn't have been instigated by you in the first place, I couldn't be tired of running so far. The younger brother muttered with some dissatisfaction.

"Give." The window at the front of the carriage opened, and a young girl with a black ponytail shoved bread into her brother's mouth, blocking the mouth that was ready to complain.

"Sorry, sister, can you really make a promise, apart~" The coachman's brother asked as he chewed his bread.

"No problem, our new compilation, if it can be successfully completed, it will definitely be more than ten years ago, and then you will be rich and able to marry a beautiful girl." The woman said a little excitedly, and the work in her hands did not stop.

When you open the window, you can see a small table with a mess of books, quills, paints, inkwells, and so on. There were scribbling sentences and sketches on the drawings, as if trying to depict some scene.

A smartly dressed young woman picks up the book again, turns one of the pages and continues to paint, the bright paint flying freely on the book, quickly outlining a stunning landscape. Thanks to the poetess's extraordinary skills, she can easily paint on a rickety carriage.

"Who would have thought that we were so lucky this time that we actually witnessed the legend with our own eyes."

Thinking back carefully to the peerless scene I saw that day, with the continuous filling of paint, surrounded by verdant forests, there are fluorescent flowers blooming between the shade of trees, and in the center of the picture with moonlight, a girl in a white dress, sitting on a branch, singing with a piano, although her face is blurred, but the beauty of the fairyland-like still brings people boundless shock.

The poetry of the past may be forgotten, but new legends are beginning to be written.

In the past, in the middle of the rugged and heroic Gufia steppe, there is now a statue with exquisite style and lightness.

A young girl stood in the wind, her long sleeves and dress fluttering in the wind, her hands held high, as if there was a fire blooming in her palms, and beside her skirt and feet was a lush pasture.

The dress on the statue is elegant, the flame burns vividly, only the girl's face is not depicted in detail, and the appropriate blank space has aroused the reverie of countless people.

Despite the scorching sun, the statue was still surrounded by a grateful crowd of people who had come to thank him, holding alfalfa in their hands, prostrating their heads in thanks, chanting the name of Alrani, and looking reverent.

A few birds landed on the statue's shoulders, looked at the crowd below, tilted their heads, chirped, and then flapped their wings and took off. Beneath the cloud-swept sky, the emerald green wilderness is boundless, and the crowds of the river stretch all the way to the distant horizon.

--------------------

After half a year, Lorain Hill returned to her original small home again, the fiery red maple leaves were scattered, and in the afterglow of the setting sun, she pushed open the wooden door that had been sealed for a long time.

The furnishings in the house are the same, but there is a little dust.

"Looks like it's going to be cleaned up."

As soon as she said it, the girl first tied up her hair with a headband, put on a homely cotton dress, and then took out a wooden bucket from her room and went to the brook not far from the courtyard to get water.

Poof-

Wooden barrels made of maple fall into the water, and then gurgle and stir up clear, cold mountain spring water. Occasionally, a few crimson maple leaves flowed down the water into the barrel, carefully picked out by the maiden, and then fell back into the water.

The clear stream reflects the dense layers of maple leaves in the sky, and the fiery red maple leaves also dye the stream intoxicating red.

Returning to the maple cottage with a half-filled barrel, Lorain Hill went up from the cabinet to load a thick white cotton rag. Soak the rag in water, wet it and then take it out, and you don't have to wring it too dry.

First of all, the interior furniture, due to the good waterproofness of the extraordinary maple wood, plus the fact that she has sealed it with the magic of the natural sequence, is basically watertight. You don't have to worry about getting wet when you scrub the contents inside.

The water was thin and scattered from the cupboards and tables, and as the maiden scrubbed them, they began to regain their original red maple color.

First scrub it roughly, then change a rag, scrub it carefully for the second time, some sunken corners, and carefully press the rag with your fingers, poke in, and wipe it clean.

After scrubbing the furniture, it's time for the floor.

The girl crouched down and placed the rag on one side of the floor, pressed it a little harder, and then pushed it to the other side, and the water trailed across the gray floor, revealing its original reddish-brown color.

After going back and forth many times, the first room was roughly scrubbed.

Then came the second room, and then the third room..... Until all rooms have been roughly scrubbed.

The black sewage is collected and dumped in a small field behind the courtyard as waste.

Then I brought a bucket of clean water for a second scrubbing, and this time after wiping, the sewage was much lighter.

When everything was scrubbed, it was getting dark.

Emptying the sewage and putting the cleaning tools back in the utility room, Lorain Hill stood up, wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, and exhaled lightly.

Speaking of which, I haven't done housework well for a long time, and I'm a little rusty.

Walking barefoot across the wet floor, a cool sensation crept up from the soles of my feet, and the silver moonlight poured from the windowsill into the room, falling on the floor that had not yet dried.

The girl put her arm on the windowsill and looked up at the bright moon in the sky.

If my mother had seen this, she would have said me again.

My mother always does housework in the early morning when she wakes up, because there are few people active during this time, and there are no people walking by while doing it, leaving footprints. The early morning sunlight can also speed up the drying of the room.

It's naturally difficult to see that scene when I go to school on weekdays, but during the holidays, I always sleep until almost noon before getting up. When I came out of the bedroom with sleepy eyes, I could smell the peculiar smell of evaporation, and then my mother counted it down, and the sun burned my buttocks.

After that, carefully step on the floor without water traces, and walk to wash without leaving footprints.

My mother is an extremely diligent person, so naturally she can't look at herself as idle, and whenever she has a holiday, she will let herself do housework.

It's a pity that I don't do well, and I am often lazy, and I only use one hand with a mop, and I am often told by my mother that I need to use both hands together, and bend down to look like work.

At that time, I thought that it would be good to just wipe it clean, and I didn't work for outsiders to see, so why bother. Sometimes I will step on the mop with one foot and scrub some difficult stains, which I think is also very good.

With the memories of the past in his mind, Lorain Hill walked into the kitchen, picked up the boiling kettle, went to the bathroom next to it, and took a comfortable hot bath with the cool and clean stream water.

Dressed in a clean white dress, the girl carried a bamboo chaise longue to the courtyard.

On autumn nights, under the tall red maple trees, the girl lies on a bamboo chaise longue and feels the gentle night breeze blowing through her body, bringing a burst of coolness.

The leaves made a soft noise, a bright moon hung high in the night sky, like the silver light of water sprinkled all over the mountains, and a few lonely birdsongs came from the distant forest.