In August of the first year, he traveled to the southern frontier of the Chu State.

The country of Chu is hilly, autumn, the grass and trees are lush, with dew and frost.

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Thousands of poles were pulled up from the turquoise flat, the night wind swept by, and the bamboo leaves made a soft sound.

On this Mid-Autumn Festival, the moon is actually as round as a jade plate.

The clouds cover the moon on the fifteenth day of August, and the snow lights up on the fifteenth day of the first month. In the world, God does not teach perfection, so there are usually slight clouds in the sky connected with the bright moon, only half covered and half hidden, pouring down the soft clear light like a pearl of the night.

He held his knees, squatted on the tiled roof of the dilapidated mountain temple, drank, looked at the moon, and listened to the wind.

The wind in the bamboo whipped his robe, and the snow-white clothes flew up in the wind, and when he turned back, his face was messy with strands, and his eyes seemed to be flowing with water.

The woodcutter who returned late was frightened by him, threw away the firewood in his hand, and ran out of the woods.

He laughed, tilted his head, and the flask in his hand fell straight into his mouth, closed his eyes, and with a deep drunkenness, rolled down on a patch of mottled and ruined roof tiles.

——The woodcutter went back to the village, and on the second day timidly turned over the belongings he had lost, and in the early morning the bamboo leaves were mottled all over the ground, and only the birds and finches chirped around his axe and sickle.

In August of the following year, he went to Saibei in the Yan Kingdom.

The northern land of Yan is a reckless grassland, and beyond the grassland, it is also a boundless desert.

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The yellow clouds are low, the wind is blowing, like "Hu Tian is snowing in August", the young man of the shepherd on the ground, hurriedly driving the cloud-like flock. The sheep will go into the pen, and the man will go home.

There are black eagles hovering in the sky, male and female in pairs, flapping their wings and chasing, and the sound of chasing.

The white horse he rode was tied to the outside of the cowhide tent. The woman with rough bronzed cheeks served him a salted milk tea, and the man in charge laughed with him, and then pulled off the cork of the wine skin, and praised him for his amount of wine and his good horse in the official dialect of Yan Guo, which was not very proficient. The eleven or twelve-year-old child in the family took a short-handled knife, peeled slices of white radish, and threw them into the boiling stew.

The campfire crackled, the occasional spark or two of firewood splashed, and the glow of the fire reflected on his face, a warm color.

He left the horse behind.

The herdsman of the grassland is good at horses, and he remembered that there had been no military disasters in the north of Yan for twenty years, and he couldn't help but sigh about the war horses he rode in the old years.

In August of the third year, he returned to Zhao.

The state of Zhao has a river that runs through the north and south and goes straight into the sea.

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He wanted to go to the beach to see the tide, so he hired a boat and went straight down the river.

At night, the kimono lies on the tip, and the stars are reflected in the river water, sparkling and rippling, like sitting in the sky.

When the boat crossed the Meijiang River, he suddenly fell ill and lived in an inn, so he prescribed a prescription for himself indiscriminately, and handed it over to Xiaoer to grab medicine to decoction.

The medicinal juice is bitter and astringent, with an indescribable taste, and it is naturally not as pleasant as wine, and he also raised his head and drank it all, put the bowl on the head of the bed, and fell asleep without dreams.

After a five-day delay, he watched the maple leaves outside the window turn crimson one by one, and lay sleepy on the couch, like a lazy cat.

I regret it.

In this way, the season of crabs on the beach has been delayed.

Leaving Meijiang, he went to the capital of Zhao State.

Bluestone avenue, pavilions are lined up, traffic is busy, laughter and conversation.

He paced in the cries of the hawkers one after another, five years, ten years, in such an ancient city, it was like waking up after a spring sleep.

He went to visit Su Hong'er, the most famous courtesan in Kyoto, Zhao Kingdom, who was fragrant and boundless.

It's hard to find a real heart, and the troubles are thrown away, why bother mediocre people, it's not as high as the clouds and the sky, which place in the world is gentle and embraced, and you can't rely on it.

The delicate daughter is dressed in red and pink makeup. She plucked the lute and sang the little words he had written down.

The singer asked, what is your surname, where is your home, what do you do for a living, and what do you do when you come to the capital?

He lazily sat on the beauty couch with his arms on his pillow, smiling, and not answering.

On the day of farewell, he led the horse, and Su Hong'er gave him a thin cloak belt, with a thin waist and ten fingers like shaving onions.

There was a faint cry above the song tower, it was a woman from another family who was sick and died, and soon there would be a thin coffin, quietly carrying people out of the room.

The singer with a youthful and beautiful face suddenly said, you are like a man in my heart.

He bowed his head slightly and smiled teasingly, you fancy him, the rhino canal jade sword, come to lean on the bridge and lean on the horse, and walk to the hero of the world?

Su Hong'er's soft palm caressed his snow-like white clothes lovingly, and did not answer.

He pinched her cherry-colored face with his hand, and said with a smile that in fact, the Oiran girl should marry the oil seller.

Heaven and earth are big, go with nature, be at peace with what you encounter, and where you can't be home.

He slept on the side of the flowing spring where the beads splashed the jade, heard the warbler crying, leaned on the green bamboo, slept with a bend of the white moon, messed up the white clothes and black hair, only the green mountains and laughed.

He did not leave Zhao in this year, and in August of the fourth year, he went to visit a friend.

He had written him many letters, but he did not have to reply because of his uncertain whereabouts.

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When I arrived at my friend's house, it happened to be Mid-Autumn Festival. Pinching his fingers, he has delayed the Mid-Autumn Festival a lot.

The man's house was built on a hill, and he stepped on the yellowish grass, and when he looked back at the sunset, he could see the large fields under the mountain. Wisps of cooking smoke rose peacefully into the sky.

A friend and his friend's wife stood outside the fence with their children in their arms, waiting for him. He stood in front of the man with a smile and brushed the crumbs of firewood from his clothes.

——Only when we met, I felt that the parting had been for a long time.

The wine that night was very good, and for the first time in the Mid-Autumn Festival, I could see the bright moon.

A person's life used to be very short, so we need to be especially nostalgic for such a happy day.

…… He also counted backwards, for him, at least, this time, there were still thirty or forty Mid-Autumn Festivals.

I can laugh and listen to him say, Jinjie, have a good trip.

Feng Jinjie led the horse and slowly descended the mountain.

Laughing and parting with him, he recalled the tearful eyes of the woman who had held hands again and again.

Su Honger didn't cry the day she sent him.

He turned his back and couldn't see the woman's face, but walked away in style.

Crying with sound and tears, and crying without sound is called crying.

I don't know if I've ever cried unseen.

He led the horse and walked alone lightly, and there were farmers on the side of the road, carrying loads and hoes, and bringing children and daughters.

Southcountry, Plugged, Mountaintop, Riverside.

Autumn after autumn, year after year.

Postscript:

Born less than 100 years old, long with a thousand years of worries. The days are short and the nights are long, so why not travel with candles.

Seems to be a bit boring...... I've just recently been abused by the wind in the wind, tears, the life of the wanderer with the wind, can it be called timely fun?

PS: This article is a birthday gift to Yi Yi An