Chapter Eighty-Seven: Clouds from Flowers

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An order, or a cup for an order, or a cup for a broken order, or a scabbard for an order, the master of the flower family gave an order, just a simple word, just said, just a clear word, so the beginning of the talk began. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 ｉｎｆｏ

It's like an emperor, with an order, thousands of miles of floating corpses.

The owner of the flower family is not the emperor, but he is the king of flowers, and his order is not a floating corpse, but a hundred miles of flowers.

The noonday sun is very strong and brilliant, but the flower is a weak creature, and the weak sometimes represents some fragility, but sometimes it can represent the weakness but is the strongest.

The weeds between the cracks in the stones, struggling, are weak, but they are strong.

The old pines between the cliffs are coiled, and the gravel of the cliffs is fragile, but strong.

The bluestone of the old street is silent, and the Buddha statue is fragile, but the deposition of a hundred years and a hundred years of obscurity are also strong.

Those who are called strong and weak are all beings that can affect the surrounding environment.

The weeds stretched out the stones that pressed on the body, the old pines fixed the sediment, and the bluestone deposited time.

Those are their strengths.

This flower is also a strong and weak creature that brings about changes in the surrounding environment.

Before the flowers bloom, the changes have already begun quietly.

A dark cloud, not very thick, even fragile, like a cloud that could be blown away by a gust of wind, floated in the sky, next to the only big ball of fire.

Suddenly there was a cloud, I couldn't tell where the cloud came from, it seemed to appear out of thin air, and it seemed to rise slowly from this grassland, every half-dead grass, every drop of water that had not been kissed by a fish was the source of that cloud.

The cloud came up from the grassland, it was the dew among the weeds, it was the clear water of the river, it was brought by the moist land.

The water looks very little, and the little is pitiful, but the sources are many, and the more is terrible.

Each grass has only a little bit of dewdrops, but there are countless grasses.

It was just a knee-length river, but there were countless droplets.

There are also countless dampness and dampness buried deep in the ground.

Maybe some of it is just wetness, but the meaning is more and more condensed, more and more, so much that when it condenses into a cloud, the dampness goes from wet to wet, to countless condensed droplets.

It was the dampness and dark clouds brought by a sea of flowers that had not yet been seen.

Then the clouds, which were not thick or dark, slowly became more and more intense.

It was as if someone had cast a drop of ink on the desk of an old pedant in that white, and it was covered with a layer of gray, at first it was just gray, and then the gray gradually intensified, gradually spreading, and gradually swallowing up the other whites.

Where the gray is thicker, the thinner the white.

Until the whole cloud is impregnated with gray.

Then the gray cloud began to spread and spread away, and gradually the blue sky disappeared, and the light of the sun was clouded.

I don't really see it, I look far away.

It looks a little shady.

Flowers have always been creatures that love moisture and coolness, just as all seemingly weak creatures have learned to change or infect their surroundings, and that cloud is the best proof of this.

The temperature in early summer is not too high, but it is still hot.

But the cloud came out, the wind blew, and the flowers bloomed.

The wind blew the clouds, the flowers, and the sea of flowers.

The sky was hazy, the sun was a little dim, but everything in the grassland was so clear.

Or rather, it's a dream, but it's the kind of dream that can be really seen, the kind of dream that can be reached out and grasped.

Fantasy and reality are intertwined.

What is real is the process of each flower blooming, breaking the soil, sprouting, spitting stems, pulling branches, opening leaves, and finally a little red flower, and finally the flower is blooming.

Each flower is red, like a burning flame in full bloom.

Red like fire, red covers the green of the branches and leaves, the wind blows, the blowing red flowers bend down, but from a distance, it seems that countless flames are dancing, rejoicing, and celebrating.

The sky was dark, and the gray clouds obscured the brilliance of the sun, but could not hide the brilliance of the red and fiery flowers, which seemed to be about to break through the dark clouds.

If the truth belongs to every single flower, then the dream belongs to this sea of flowers.

The dream is that every flower is budding and growing branches, almost at the same speed, and those weeds that were originally just a few weeds are soon overwhelmed by the endless red flowers.

It's a sea of flowers.

There is also the hazy brilliance that permeates each flower, looming, blurred, and dreamy. It casts a psychedelic color over the entire grassland.

Every red flower shines with light, whether it is the real brilliance like fire or the smoky brilliance that covers the flower, it is light.

Light illuminates the darkness, so the world that should be somewhat dim is filled with light.

The red fire, the misty light, those are the dreamy colors that flowers bring.

The flowers are blooming.

The Flower Sea Feast began.

It's not a four-season flower, there are no flowers of all kinds of gorgeous colors, there is only one kind of flower, all the same kind of flower.

Red unknown flower.

No one would use flame as the name of that flower, which is a bit rustic, but there is no better way to describe it than fire, a flame that burns brightly.

In particular, the fragrance of flowers is as strong as a flame, so hot, so that it can waft into people's hearts, and then ignite a blazing flame, a mesmerizing fragrance bursting from the deepest part of the soul.

Every fragrance wafting into the nose instantly ignites the fire in the heart, bursting out with enthusiasm and blood.

It is somewhat similar to the fragrance before the Hua family, but it is more intense, and there is a strong sense of encroachment, encroaching on every part of everyone's body, and everyone is completely integrated into a fire, into that irrepressible pleasure.

Joy comes from the heart that the flower ignites.

Therefore, no one will have a little bad feeling for the flower and the fragrance of the flower, and if they occupy everything, they will naturally not have any bad feelings.

It's just that the feeling is beautiful, it feels scorching, it's dazzling.

It's not glamorous, it's not pure, it's just plain hot.

The dark clouds in the sky were also dyed with a layer of red, a dazzling red.

The meandering plaster water is dotted with red, fragrant red.

The high platform was originally red, but it appeared more red, the red ones were purple, and the purple ones were black.

Everyone on the high platform has only red on their bodies, and everyone has only red in their eyes.

There is no other color in their eyes.

The red is like fire, the red is like the glow, and the red is like the blood of a hero.

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The main body of the flower family is red, so the flower feast is only red, and the good luck of the gentlemen is ...... Red and fiery in a trance.