Mother Piaoyu and his party followed Mo Wuwen's guidance, and walked towards a fence surrounding the courtyard, and the sound came far away.

With the sound of sentences and sentences, I can only hear it, and a trace of crying and crying is coming,

The game in the forest field is true,

When the morning dew fills the heart of the bowl,

You are angry,

Good world farmer glory who thanks.

Accompanied by a poem of the sound of dong, the mother of the rain can't help but feel relaxed.

The mother pushed open the fence door and walked into it.

I saw a twenty-eight-year-old woman on a flat ground in the middle of the courtyard, a pink skirt in white plain color, fluttering, crumbling, her face was a little terrible and cute, so white and white, a few drops of sweat flowed down between her cheeks, a pair of arms were delicate like two soft willow branches, only a small waist, slender legs were as light as wind and dust, a pair of small feet were the size of a colleague's mother's palm, wearing red embroidered shoes, yellow hair, melon seed face, and a pair of bright eyes like stars, but also with a little hazy meaning, so that the rain of the mother also rose to the point of hope and unreachable, really anyone who sees it will rise up to love and care.

In the twenty-eighth year, when the age of cute and spoiled.

I saw that she was holding a wooden pole with both hands, a wooden pestle the thickness of an adult's thigh below, a support point in the middle, and a container like a wooden barrel in front of her, in which a few wheat grains were placed.

Half of it is already in pieces, but it will be a long time.

Mother Piaoyu couldn't help but say, "Who is Mo Wuwen?"

Her name is Lin Zhi, Mo Wuwen doesn't know where she came from, the war is chaotic, not long ago, Mo Wuwen saw her walking in the fields at will, and he didn't know whether to get separated from her family, or go out to play at will, Wuwen saw that she didn't know how to not be able to give birth to the place where she left. Play with her however you want!

Mother Piaoyu sighed, and couldn't help but read it out loud:

The game in the forest field is true,

When the morning dew fills the heart of the bowl,

You are angry,

Good world farmer glory who thanks.

Thank you very much.

After that, he walked into the three thatched houses opposite the courtyard gate.

When the mother entered the house in the rain, she saw a low long wooden table on top of a home-sized earthen kang, and several large porcelain bowls on top of the wooden table.

Two gray-haired old men, about seventy years old, and a scrawny young man, sat cross-legged in front of the table, and a woman in her sixtieth birthday was carrying a plate of wild vegetables from a large iron pot and a pile of firewood on the side of the kang and placed it on the table.

My mother walked in front of the earthen kang in the rain, only to see a few coarse porcelain bowls, clear and transparent, with a few shadows of rice noodles scattered and scattered.

There is only one bowl that is as thick as dense, looking at the bowl of thick porridge, I can't help but ask, "Whose is this"?

I saw Mo Wuwen come forward and said, "Owner, don't worry!" It's Mo Wuwen, Mo Wuwen can still kill, and he won't affect his comrades-in-arms.

Embarking on this journey, if sacrifice is required, Mo Wuwen will definitely not be the second person.

If you don't kill ten or eight of them, how can you face the comrades who blocked the gun and knife for Mo Wuwen.