Today, I went into the grave mountain to hoe the grass, the grass was too deep and dense to go up the mountain, so I had to hoe a way, because it would be the Midyear Festival in two days.

If you want to kill the grass, all with barbs, the shorter one is as tall as my neck, and the taller one grows directly to two meters of a turtle grandson, and the mosquitoes in the mountains are like eight hundred years have not seen people, and they suck hard on their legs and arms, and they are willing to be shot to death and run away.

I went into the mountains to take a look, shook the small hoe that was long in my arm, and resolutely rode back on a motorcycle to move the rescuers.

Then I brought two short hoes, and a man-long hoe, and my wife.

The two of us went into the mountains to hoe together for a long time, and the motivation that supported me to go home was to dream of drinking Coca-Cola when I went back.

In short, I will take a day off today, and tomorrow morning I will come back to update the code words after burning the paper, sorry, sorry. (The rule here is that the new grave should go into the mountain to burn paper on the day of the Midyear Festival)

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