Gonggong has been asked to change into a fashionable robe, covering his muscles and looking much more coordinated, Gonggong pulled the robe on his body with a disgusted face and said: "This dress is so rough in workmanship, it is far worse than mine." ”

The little half-immortal thought of the clothes that the co-workers had worn before, and the clothes were thrown to the beggars and beggars.

Gonggong looked at the expression of the little half-immortal, and suddenly became angry, "What do you know, that's a heavenly clothes, seamless." ”

The little half-immortal said: "Yes, you are right, do you want to go out for a walk." ”

The co-workers walked out in a hurry, and the little half-fairy took the co-workers to the small garden in the house, and now in this season, there is nothing to see in the garden, but the co-workers are still full of interest.

has been locked up in that dark place for thousands of years, and Xiao Banxian estimates that this kind of energy will last for a few days.

After sitting down in the pavilion, the little half-immortal said: "The current world is very different from yours back then. ”

"We were the world of gods and demons then, but now we are mortals. ”

Xiao Banxian said: "Like you said, maybe it's because the Heavenly Dao doesn't allow those who are strong enough to defy the sky. ”

Gonggong pursed his lips, and the little half-immortal said: "Since ancient times, blessings and misfortunes have depended on each other, and you were seriously injured by Nuwa Niangniang and the fire god Zhurong, but you escaped the catastrophe because of this, which can be regarded as a blessing in disguise." ”

Speaking of this, the little half-immortal said to a maid who passed by: "Go and bring a small stove, I want to make tea." ”

Soon, the three maids brought a small stove and a full set of tea cooking tools, and the co-workers asked curiously, "What is tea?"

The little half-immortal said: "You'll know later." ”

Xiao Banxian has learned a lot of things, in addition to cooking skills are almost all involved, the craft of cooking tea is quite skilled, Gonggong has spent thousands of years in loneliness, and now he is very interested in everything, even the long process of cooking tea is very interesting, he smells the fragrance of tea in his nose, and Gonggong asks: "This thing is very fragrant." ”

Xiao Banxian offered a cup of tea, Gonggong took a sip, and his brows furrowed, but soon his brows stretched out again, and he took another sip, "Not bad, it's very special." ”

Xiao Banxian also picked up a cup and drank it opposite Gonggong, "It's been a while since I've been so idle." ”

At this time, there was a maid who brought a four-color dim sum, and the co-worker was not polite, so he picked up a piece and started eating, and the little half-fairy said: Xiao Mo also loves to eat hibiscus cake. ”

"She's your wife?"

Xiao Banxian hurriedly said: "No....... She is my best friend. ”

Co-workers rolled their eyes, "Hmph, best friend?!"

Xiao Banxian's face was slightly red, he didn't know why he was weak-hearted, one thing after another these days, Xiao Banxian had never thought about it well.

Mo Liunian has long been accustomed to him, he is used to her staying by his side, every time she leaves, whether it is voluntary or captive, his discomfort becomes stronger and stronger, and he is even afraid, he is afraid that she will leave his side.

The co-worker thief asked awkwardly, "Do you know who first owned the Mixed Yuan Bead?"

Xiao Banxian shook his head, and Gonggong blinked: "It's Fuxi and Nuwa." ”

The little half-immortal was stunned, and according to legend, Fuxi and Nuwa were both brother and sister and husband and wife, and they said together: "However, because of the curse of the Mixed Yuan Zhu, the mana has been greatly reduced. ”

Speaking of this, Gonggong said: "The two of us are too lonely, it is better to call Ying Long out." ”

The little half-immortal said with a black line on his head: "Ying Long is just a ray of spirit now, and it will scare people if he releases it so rashly." ”

She noticed that the old general was dressed in civilian clothes today: a spun silk gown of the same color with a small fine plaid of the same color, of high-grade material, but unironed after washing, the front placket was shorter than the back placket, and the traces of folding were very eye-catching. It seems that clothes of this material should not be folded, let alone folded according to Western clothing: the wide trouser legs reveal two straight trouser lines like uniform pants, which are unpleasant to the eye and nondescript. The general's hairstyle is also special, the below the ears is extremely clean, and the rest of the white hair is carefully blown and carefully divided into "three or seven open", like a stiff combination of a strong bald head and an outdated modern split head.

She was only about seventeen or eighteen years old, and although the materials of her clothes were very simple, the style of her tailoring was very fashionable. Her two protruding eyes, her narrow face, her curved and small and thin lips, her waist-length braided hair, her tall figure, her not white skin, and her posture are the same as those of Beijing's silver brothers.

The young man had the most gloomy face, his head shaved so that it did not show any clarity, and his lips were so thick that one doubted that he would have the power to open them. His eyebrows were two small clumps of black forest, casting a dark shadow over his eyes. It would be better for him to sit in the cellar and write a horror book, or to play a little demon in a monster drama, and he is not fit to be a soldier. But he did wear a military uniform, dirty and slack, and the sign on his chest was almost casually picked up from the garbage heap, and even more casually pasted there.

The woman across from him was just a girl—probably in her twenties. Wearing a tight short black blouse and skirt, a white satin jacket, and a fashionable little black skullcap, worn at a popular and unaccustomed angle.

Peter doesn't wear many suits, only dark colors, classic style, and a bit old-fashioned. Peter's vitality was reflected in the black, thick, free-flowing hair that was piled up on his forehead. Every strand of hair has movement and expressiveness.

Sang Xia was about twenty-two or three years old, with slightly dark skin, tall and plump figure, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, a Western-style white shirt, and beige suit pants. She walked up to Zhu Yuqiong with two rattan boxes, one large and one small, and put down the rattan boxes heavily, showing a smile on her sweat-soaked face.

The left eyebrow is as thin as a willow leaf, but the right eyebrow is not half a root, and the eyes are large and small, and the eyeballs are also glowing with purple light. A wide purple burqa enveloped a woman's bloated body. No wonder she has been sitting in a sedan chair for many years and does not dare to show her face.

Erhe walked forward, and saw the woman wearing a fox fur cloak, and seemed to come out of the house, and she was afraid of the cold. She permed her hair and smeared rouge powder. Although she was smeared with rouge powder, she couldn't hide the wrinkles on her face, and the two painted eyebrows were particularly thick and black, with the sideburns of wild hair, which was very ugly.

Tall, straight, and arrogant, Amaranta often wore a dress as white and soft as foam, and despite her advanced age and sad past, she still had a superior appearance, and she seemed to have her own gray cross, the mark of a virgin, on her forehead. She did have such a mark, but it was on her hands—under the black bandage, which Amaranta did not remove even at night, and sometimes washed and ironed it herself. Amaranta lives in sewn mortuary garments. It can be seen that she sews during the day and dismantles at night, but this is not to get rid of loneliness, on the contrary, but to stay alone.

It should be admitted that his appearance is still very vivid to summarize with "Mr. Tu", a short man of 1.65 meters, a thin face, protruding cheekbones, and a small mustache on his chin. The worst thing is the outfit, a pair of old cloth shoes, a pair of washed black pants, and a shirt with a patch sewn on the elbow, which is really flattering. I remember the first time we saw him, we all rolled our eyes, "Dirt."

After a while, a woman opened the curtain, and two women came in, the first woman was about fifty years old, her face was aging, even if she rubbed a thick powder, she could not hide the black and yellow rough skin color, only the eyebrows and eyes were somewhat similar to He's mother;

They also saw the big red buns. Her feather hat was crooked on her head, and only half of the feathers remained. Her fox fur robe was half wet, as if a pot of tea had been poured over it. She was bare-bottomed and held a pair of high heels in her left hand. The powder on her face had completely fallen, revealing piles of freckles.

She gradually eliminated red or pink clothes, and learned from the famous actress Zhu Yijin always wore white or black, and the skirt was either extremely narrow or ankle-length. Hair is no longer braided in two, but a large pie is coiled at the back of the head, and a large tortoiseshell comb is not pinned.

On this public holiday, Hester wore her grey coarse cloth gown as on any occasion in seven years. The colour of the garment, especially the indescribable peculiarity, had the effect of blurring her outline and making her unobtrusive, and yet the scarlet letters made her leap out of the obscurity and reveal her under her spirit with its own sparkle.

He was pretty-looking, braggart-loving, always rattling the spurs in his boots, the beard and beard on his lips, the rings on his fingers, and his brilliant clothes, and his appearance like a warrior, approachable and salesman.

Her face was golden-brown under her soapy white hair, and her flesh was tight and oily, and her eyes hung up like a man. A striped cloth bathrobe, untied, loosely fitted on the body, from the light ink strips, you can roughly guess the outline of the body, one by one, inch by inch is alive. The world only says that the ancient costume with wide robes and large sleeves is not suitable for curvaceous beauty, and Zhenbao now knows that this is true, but it is not. He turned on the tap, and the water was not very hot, but the boiler downstairs must be burning, and there was a hot core in the lukewarm water. A stream of water hung in the faucet, twisted and twisted and flowed down, and every inch was alive. Zhenbao didn't know where to go.

The outsiders were in even worse condition, with no vehicles and little luggage. An old man bent over and wiped his nose, tied a dark blue cotton jacket with a straw rope, on which there were more than a dozen patches, and the cuffs looked like two pieces of light iron, and the color of the oil stain reflected the sunlight.

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