"I'm so sorry I couldn't find him. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info" Marchko walked up to Alleyne and finally said it with a wry smile, his voice still hoarse and rough.

Alleyne still looked at Marchko like that, an answer he had expected after years of evasion. He looked at Marchko and patted him on the shoulder, as if to brush away the incredible aging that time had brought him. "It's okay. Alleyne replied to him with a wry smile, "At least you're back." ”

"Actually, it's not just me. Macchico looked out the door, where the sun was still shining. He turned back to look at Alleyne, "You know, you have a son." ”

"You don't look like a joker. Alleyne laughed.

"It's Jamila's. Layne's look of surprise was revealed in Marchko's deep gaze, and the surroundings suddenly became quiet, and the hot air seemed to condense and suffocate.

"You two can go in. The guard's face was still grim, and Fairians' nervous thoughts were interrupted by his calm, majestic voice, and his mind went blank, feeling dazed and overwhelmed. He looked timidly at Baska, the innocent boy who was just smiling and encouraging him, and though Feljans felt that he could not understand him, he thanked him from the bottom of his heart. They walked in small steps, barely audible.

Alleyne thought he had reined in his mood, but when he saw the shy and silent boy approaching him, his heart was struck by his striking resemblance. Yes, he looked too much like him, except for those eyes, which were as calm and gentle as the Wincord River in autumn, and they were no different from Jamila. The girl's face appeared before his eyes again, and the sparks of memories flashed little by little, and were ruthlessly extinguished one after another in the sultry air of reality. He just watched Ferjans sink into his attention until Marchko reminded him that it was time to speak.

"What's your name, my child. ”

"Feljans, sir. ”

The soft, bright voice, the one he had ever known, the same clarity, the same lightness.

"Child, there can be no mistake, there can be no mistake, I am your father!" Alleyne shuddered all over, and he hugged Feljans, burying his head in his chest. Feljans only felt that the force was overwhelming him, but he also felt so warm and safe for the first time, as if he could get eternal rest. He felt his shoulders get wet. He heard Marchko's dry voice but couldn't make out what he was saying, and he heard Pascal's choked voice, and he just kept saying things like yes, yes. He felt good but not as happy as he had expected, and he only felt that his father was still a foreign word to him. Is this soldier in front of him who is so similar to himself his so-called father?

"Father, father. Fairhans muttered to himself.

"What's the matter, kid. Alleyne's voice softened suddenly.

"How did we get apart in the first place?"

Alleyne was a little relieved, Fairyance didn't know what this portended, he just felt that this question, which he seemed to never be aware of, had finally jumped from behind the scenes to the front of the stage, and the desire for an answer was so strong.

"Your mother, are you okay now?" there was a hint of cowardice in his father's voice, and Fairyans was keenly aware that this father, dressed in military uniform, was far from being as indestructible as he seemed.

"I haven't seen my mom for two years. Fellyans suddenly remembered the small figure that was cast in the faint morning light and prayed sincerely, and he felt a sour heart.

"Well, in order for a man to grow up, he must first break free from his mother's arms. Alleyne let go of his arm, looking as if he was trying to remember something, but the look was fleeting. He looked at Feljans, his eyes showing infinite kindness and a slight imperceptible shame. "Let me take a good look at you again. ”

Feljans looked at his father, but he still felt puzzled in his heart, his father did not seem to want to answer his own questions, and he felt tormented and painful in the contradiction between the strong desire for answers and the fear of his father's embarrassment.

"These things are not said in one fell swoop, and when this war is over, I will go back with you to see your mother and get all the questions straight, okay?" said Alleyne, who stroked Fairyans' forehead as if he could see it more clearly.

"I see, father. Fellyans nodded, his eyes full of longing and expectation. Alleyne finally smiled again, as if all the faults of memory had been reconnected, and Jamila seemed to appear in front of him immediately. Baska rushed to Feljans, and they hugged each other tightly, crying and laughing as if they were brothers.

Marcko watched it all and didn't speak. He looked at the sunlight pouring in from the towering tops, and felt hot and real, and his tired heart once again had that passion that might be short, but very real.

What is this all for? Shiba Muhaddin was a little sleepy, his eyes became foggy, the desert outside the city was buried in the endless darkness, the low whistling wind was like the breath of darkness and pain, the lights swaying in the wind seemed warm and a little illusory, he was a little tired. But he still stands on the city wall, even if he is not so straight and not so spirited, it still gives people a solemn and eternal feeling. They said that there would be another war tomorrow, and Muhatdin muttered in his heart for a while, and finally passed the peaceful birthday. He always didn't understand why there were always people looking at this land of yellow sand, it stands to reason that there was nothing attractive here, the wind and sand were always easy to avoid, the scorching sun during the day and the cold air at night were always unbearable, he always complained to himself about why he was born in this ghost place, this kind of complaint has not been interrupted in the nearly forty years of his life, but this middle-aged man who is often covered with dust and tired looks knows from the bottom of his heart that he can't leave here.

He was born in the village of Shibazumo, where he remembered that the palm trees were quiet and peaceful, as if they were always there for people to cool off, and there were always a lot of dates in the village, and the only snack he remembers as a child was dates, and it is still the case. Even after he became a soldier, he would always carry two dates in his arms when he had nothing to do, and he would talk about how to satisfy his hunger with only this kind of thing. He was born in a good time, and according to him, he grew up in an era where he had to live as a bandit or a soldier. Muhddin's father was taken by the lord to serve as a soldier while his mother was still pregnant with him, and he never returned. There are many such children in the village, whose father left before they were yet mature, and the war became their new father, but this father was more unsympathetic, but he was more able to teach them to survive. Girls often marry early, while boys always have to take on the responsibilities early. Having matured in a forced way, they have not yet been able to appreciate the benefits of maturity, and the taste of family is about to face a new round of separation, with men often being carried away by their lords, while women grow old with occasional nostalgia, and watch their children follow the same path. As a child, Muhddin lived with these children who had similar experiences to him, experiencing the bitter fate and the joy of serendipitous discovery. Together, they gathered dates, worked in the fields, and sat under the huge palm trees in their rare leisure moments and chatted, and he had developed a hobby of chattering about the bits and pieces of life he had experienced, mostly casually complaining, in a tone as if he had been accustomed to it.

They all grew quickly, their physiques grew strong through labor, and their hands grew thick calluses that were large and powerful.

Like many young people, Muhdin had a favorite girl. Among the girls in the same village, she is the least talkative and the most quiet. Muhardin just liked that, and he seemed to be looking for a patient listener. In the middle of the night, when everything is silent and the stars are throbbing, he will wake up and look out the window and talk to himself, most of his tone is a little shy, as if he is embarrassed to say something to someone. The voice was always soft, like the unconscious murmur of the night itself. But he didn't do the most normal and simple things that many young people did at that time: pursue, get engaged, get married. He knew that he couldn't get out of the life, and his own strong sense of fate was haunting him, but he had expectations for the rebellion of others against fate. So in the end he fantasized that a man who had escaped military life could take the girl away and live a peaceful life, until that early morning of the conscription, he saw her waving softly to her young husband in the crowd of farewell with a big belly, and her expression was calm and indifferent, with a certain forbearance quality. He turned his head and remembered that the night before his mother had grabbed a handful of dates from his bed, told him to eat them, and then left the nucleus for a memory. Mother wasn't in the farewell line today, he thought. He looked at the vast and indifferent sky, as if in a gloom, with imperceptible oscillations. Since then, he has not seen his mother or the other man's wife.

He always had an astonishing premonition of what was going on in his life, as if he could always notice the signs that were showing up in the details. He had changed from a farmer to a soldier, but his heart was strangely calm, as if it were nothing more than something he already knew, and his chattering tone was no different from when he was a farmer, as if he had long been accustomed to it, and the trivial troubles and the fatal details of the battlefield seemed to be no different from him. He seemed to have long since passed the fear and apprehension of a recruit, and there was no shrinkage or confusion in his eyes, which the veterans called death as home, and they knew that such a person was often not easy to die on the battlefield.

At that time, the war between the kingdom of Rhodok and the Sultanate of Salander had been going on for a long time, but it seemed that the end was far from over, because the Sultan of Hakim had not yet recaptured his city of Sharez. The area of Fort Calaf became a scorching ground for the fighting, and Muhddin followed their lord to the front, armed only with a tattered bamboo spear picked up from the battlefield. It was a dark night without stars, and Salander's army had assembled near Mitnutn. The silent crowd in the darkness seemed to loom in the torches, like waves about to surge.

"Muhatdin, do you think we can win?" asked a light foot soldier beside him, dragging a tired voice.

"Of course you can win. Muhdin slung his spear over his shoulders and stared at the old man at the front of the line.