The rain on the eaves will be shallow in the distant mountains near the house, the Lin'an City at this time is the most elegant, the piano sings Ning, the fragrance visits the neighbors, only calls the smoke and rain without saying anything, but sees a curtain of mountains.

The silver chain fell into the beads, provoking that side to linger in one place, rushing from the dry dome to the piece of sincerity that no one dared to set foot on at this time.

The rain in Lin'an City has no worries, of course, it is clean and natural, and the lake and pond can jump non-stop, so happy. Or someone is still looking at the top of the tower on the top of the mountain: there is no fishing man in the cloth, and he is still looking for a rain hook to play a tour. But the God of Wealth saves the temple of suffering, and the moss is not born and everyone asks for it.

The first thing in the hearts of ordinary people is often not the wealth that splashes the sky, at least with people like Mrs. Li, the biggest wish is just to pray for a family reunion, if you can have more money in your hands, food and clothing and wealth, it would be better.

It's just that when such begging may not be successful, Mrs. Li's hope is only left when weaving, and this thread can be broken a few times......

"Click."

"Whoa......

"Click! Click! ”

The pipe is placed in the wooden shuttle shuttle back and forth, sent back and forth, and the steps of the cycle are no different from every day of Mrs. Li's without any exceptions.

Although Hengluo is plain, it is as if Mrs. Li is weaving it up, but it seems to send her thoughts every day into it, working hard for a living, looking forward to reunion every day, vertical and horizontal, and hiding countless chaos twisted together between a mention and a fall.

The crying in the alley before gradually subsided, but the bell in the bell and drum tower over there shattered the rain and rushed straight to the west of the city. This Luo Ben is not only telling the story of Mrs. Li, but also the story of Lin'an City.

Mrs. Li's current thoughts, although An Ji can't empathize, can also compare them with her current situation - when the heart is chaotic, the weaving will also be chaotic, only when the heart is full of this Luo, can you not make mistakes.

Putting the book on his lap, An Ji raised his eyes and looked at the distant mountains along the window of his home, but was blocked by this winding road, so he had to quietly listen to the rain that gathered into a stream.

This Rory weaving is never silk itself, it is a livelihood, and it is also a legend that can not be broken for thousands of years.

An Ji also knew this, when he was a graduate student in history...... Not only Luo, but also the silk fabrics that can still be seen in seven or eight patterns unearthed today, and every tangible and intangible piece on the Silk Road that can represent China.

Someone can understand their own story, Yu continued to talk endlessly, the words were very soft and soft, not to tell the lullaby for others, but to let this story that has melted into the tenderness of thousands of years of Jiangnan hastily come to an end.

Rain, is the world has not changed in the eternal things, from the mountains to the ocean, I don't know how many legends have been heard, at least the Song Yun of Lin'an City, the elegance of Hangzhou City, ordinary people in this thousand years have never changed the unremitting, is the rain can tell people, belongs to the story of this land.

An Ji also found that on this rainy day, he can always resonate with the land where he lives like never before, and this thin book is better like knowing his own heart, and he is explaining it for himself......

The sixth sister in the book has moved to the side of the flower machine, still weaving Luo quietly, and Mrs. Li's loom is still unexpectedly broken repeatedly.

To be able to get in touch with Hangluo, An Ji thought: it is his luck.