In the afternoon, Lao Pao, Lao Ash, and Juanzi and I left the tribe and went to the golden wheat field. We went down the river until we reached the end of the river. The creek flows into a huge cave after a huge loop. We carefully followed the river into the cave with the help of the light on our mobile phones, and found that not far after the river entered the cave, there was a huge drop, and the river flowed into the belly of the mountain, and then disappeared. Old Ash was amazed that this beautiful little river had finally become an underground river. But the old cannon thought that it was not necessarily, and the river must have flowed out from another outlet. The two argued endlessly, and finally pulled Juanzi, and the three of them went out together, to the mountain outside to see if there was another outlet for the river.

I didn't go out with them, but lingered in the cave. At this time, the river gathers the elegance of the piano, the stretch of the violin, the whisper of the clarinet, and the outpouring of the cello. There is also the excitement of the drums, the heartbeat of the harp, and the passion of the trumpet. The impulse of the wind, the howling of the forest, and the boiling of the blood of the mountains gathered.

In the darkness, I heard a sound like the flapping of wings, as if it were flying from the depths of time. I used the light on my phone to shine into the depths of the river's vanishing drop, and I saw clumps of silver wings floating from there, and I could see them clearly, but I couldn't describe their shape. All I know is that they are in clusters, like the flow of snow, like the fall of snow, like thousands of horses rolling in. The clusters of silver wings were like flocks of birds crashing in a storm, restless and fearful. They flew around in a panic, maybe lost, maybe uneasy, and the sounds they made were all over the place. What are these flying elves looking for? Sometimes they collide with each other, sometimes they soar into the sky alone, sometimes they fly side by side.

Then I heard a saxophone chant that pierced through the stormy curtain and overpowered all other sounds. At this time, the elves seem to have found their way, found their way to eternity, and they have multiplied their courage and fighting spirit. One moment it disappears in places that are difficult to see, and the next it suddenly rises again under the impetus of the damp wind in the cave.

I finally saw that it was a fairy in a silver robe with silver wings, and it was a butterfly. These butterflies may rise high and dance proudly. Or clusters gathered, as if arriving at a moment of infinite happiness. They willfully allow themselves to move from one dimension to another, without asking where they are going, or asking the mercy of the Heavens. At this moment, I was standing on a narrow rock. I seemed to be in a dream, and the darkness embraced me tightly. A faint light flickered in the depths of the darkness, and I could see the terrifying cliffs beneath my feet. You can see the dance of butterflies under the cliffs, this dance is like burning smoke, and the smoky silver waves are constantly surging and roaring

I stood still until the three men who had been searching for the river in vain came back to look for me.

When we got back to the village, it was getting dark.

As soon as we entered the village, far away, we heard bursts of singing wafting in the wind. This song is melodious and full of penetrating power, which makes people can't help but be fascinated when they listen to it. Following the singing, our group walked to the open space in front of the ancestral hall. In the middle of the clearing, there was a huge fire. The firelight illuminated the entire clearing. Around the clearing, there are small fires. On the edge of the small fire, a crowd of people sat around. All of them were dressed in costumes. It was women of different ages who were singing. The charm in their voices, the melody in their voices, seem to be interpreting the joy and brightness in their hearts. After the women had finished singing a song, some of them performed the next, while others took out bowls of wine and passed them on, singing and drinking as they sang. No wonder their singing is so intoxicating.

When the people sitting around the fire saw us approaching, they warmly invited us to join us. Someone moved out of place for us, someone handed us bowls of wine. The wine is made by their family, and the alcohol content is very low, sweet and sour, which makes people feel refreshed after drinking. Our group joined them, drinking mellow and warm wine, and felt that the women's singing was more and more full of deep intoxication.

A young man told us that the current singing was just a warm-up, and that the feast would not be officially announced until the archmage had danced a song.

After the women's singing, the men began to join in. The men's singing was so reined in that it seemed that they were not singing with their voices, but that they naturally flowed from the bottom of their hearts. Their singing voices are both desolate and sad in Mongolian songs and high and passionate in Tibetan songs. There is a kind of momentum in this song, which is agitated and inspiring, making people listen to the blood boiling and passionate.

At this time, Bakken came to us and said that he had set aside a fire for the people of the expedition team in front of us, so that we could gather together so that the leaders of the tribe could toast at that time.

When the four of us, under the leadership of Bakken, came to the fire prepared by the tribe for the expedition team, the members of the expedition team had already arrived, and Li Lili finally showed up. When Li Lili saw me, he made a gesture to beg for mercy. I shook my head and smiled, expressing my helplessness. After all, they are brothers for many years, and they can't really be ruthless to others.

No sooner had we sat down by the fire than the singing stopped. I saw a girl in costume slowly walking into the venue from the sidelines, and everywhere she went, everyone was greeting this girl, and the girl also responded one by one. I recognized this girl that everyone respected very much as Archmage Aya. At this time, Aya was dressed in a black outfit with red embroidery, with long hair and a silver headdress. On the side of the headdress, a delicate feather feather is inserted.

Bakken, who was sitting with the inspection team, excitedly told everyone that the dance of the archmage was the best among all the girls, and her dance was usually invisible, but today everyone was lucky.

The leader of the tribe walked into the middle of the field and waved everyone to be quiet. After a welcome speech, the leader of the tribe announced the official start of the feast.

The women's singing began to sound again, and the men began to sing with the women. In the midst of everyone's singing, Aya held her long skirt and posed in a pose, like a phoenix that wanted to rise to the sky.

I was a little strange, and I asked the Bakken beside me, "Why is there no one dancing with the archmage?" ”

"Because no one's dance is worthy of the dance of the archmage." ”