The first time Zhou Jinyu saw her was on the "Louwailou" in Kexiang, Nanjing.

Tasteful second floor.

Under "Autumn Wind Holding a Fan", Ye Muyu is hanging his head and stroking the piano.

The palms of the hands are harmonious, and the souls of the piano intersect.

At that time, she was wearing a black Luo shirt, and the black Luo shirt was decorated with bright red roses.

It's just that although her face was thin at that time, she was as white and tender as jade.

Now, her face became whiter, paler.

This kind of whiteness is like sorrow, like sadness, like resentment.

More like Acacia.

Just like the "Sauvignon Blanc" she once sang in "Louwailou": "Wu Shanqing, Yue Shanqing." The green mountains on both sides of the strait greet each other, who knows the parting feelings? The monarch is in tears, and the concubine is in tears. The concentric knot of the Luo belt has not been completed, and the tide of the river has been flattened. ”

Ye Muyu didn't seem to be suffering less than her mother.

She fell in love with Yelu Hanyan and her enemy.

Love itself is not wrong, but whose fault is it? whose fault is it that torments both her and her mother?

Ye Muyu's pale hand was already on the scabbard of the Chengying Sword.

She didn't say a word, she had already stepped out of the door of the small courtyard.

Her face seemed paler and haggard.

No one stopped her when she went out, and neither did Ji Chu.

Yellow leaves fall on the courtyard wall and on the stone steps in front of the door.

The yellow leaves were blown into the river water under the stone steps by the autumn wind of Xiao Suo, and drifted away with the current, not knowing where to go.

How can the thin yellow leaves control the direction and grasp the destiny?

Ji Chu's eyes just stared out of the door vacantly, and her eyes had almost turned dead gray, the color of despair.

Nanking.

Autumn is getting stronger.

The prosperity is still unabated.

Gongyuan Street is still bustling, and pedestrians rub shoulders.

Wu Hongwen walked on the street alone, looking at the dazzling array of small commodities on both sides of the street, he felt very comfortable.

Even if the affairs of the alliance leader's altar were now decided by him alone, he didn't feel the slightest pressure.

Perhaps he will always be so open-minded, and he will always hold a fan in his hand, or a paper fan, or a wooden fan, or a feather fan.

Now he is holding a paper fan in his hand.

He likes friends and loves wine.

He likes to meet all kinds of people and listen to all kinds of stories.

Every time he listened to a story, it was as if he had experienced it himself.

So, he likes lively places, like places with a lot of people.

And Gongyuan Street is such a place.

Suddenly there was a muffled thunder in the sky.

Then, the raindrops the size of beans fell, the pedestrians gradually thinned, and the bluestone long street suddenly became mottled.

Since you have to take shelter from the rain, there must be alcohol in the place where you are sheltered from the rain, otherwise it will be as uncomfortable as going to prison.

There is a noodle restaurant next to Wu Hongwen, and it just so happens that the wine in that noodle restaurant is very fragrant.

Wu Hongwen's nose is very smart.

So he's already walked in.

A simple noodle restaurant, not even a signboard, the noodle restaurant is not big, there are only six old Eight Immortal Tables in the house, three tables are already seated, and only one person is sitting at each table.

Wu Hongwen likes this kind of small market shop, and it seems that there will always be endless stories to tell here.

There were only three people in the noodle restaurant, and Wu Hongwen couldn't help but be a little disappointed, not to mention that two of the three people were monks.

One of them, a monk with white eyebrows, a thin body and high cheekbones, was sitting in the doorway, eating a bowl of noodles and a bowl of green vegetable noodles.

He put the soft noodles in his mouth as if he were chewing steel, and his red eyes stared at the bowl of noodles as if a fire was about to erupt from those red eyes, and that fire could neutralize all the ghosts.

He sat upright and chewed slowly.

There was only noodles on his table, no wine.

However, the other monk's table had not only noodles but also wine, and even meat.

It was a Tibetan Buddhist lama, and he was rugged and unkempt, with a needle-like beard that took up half of his face.

He was of short stature and had a rickety back.

He's not a dwarf, but he doesn't have to be much taller.

He eats with his left hand because his right hand is large and his right fingers are so thick that he can't use chopsticks.

He took a sip of wine, then ate a mouthful of noodles with a mouthful of meat.

His expression was so satisfied that you could tell that he was enjoying it, and even when he was eating noodles, he seemed to be smiling, and no one knew what he was laughing at.

There was also a faint smell of dry smoke in the noodle shop, and the smoke came from the old man at the table in the corner.

An old man in rags, with snowy sideburns and shriveled skin, and a shabby garment that was close to white.

There was no noodles on the old man's table, only wine.

He took a soft sip of wine and took a leisurely puff of his cigarette, the smoke covering his bronzed face, bronzed hands, and bronzed teeth.

The people in the noodle restaurant didn't seem to notice Wu Hongwen coming in, they were still eating their noodles and drinking their own wine.

Wu Hongwen doesn't like to drink alone, so he doesn't want to sit at an empty table alone.

At this time, the old man in rags suddenly said slowly: "Is the young man looking for someone to drink?"

Wu Hongwen said: "Isn't it boring to drink alone?"

The old man in ragged clothes picked up the wine jug on the table, poured the last sip of wine, and said, "Would the young man be willing to invite the old man to drink a few jugs of wine?"

Wu Hongwen smiled and said, "Could it be that the predecessors are already shy?"

The old man in ragged clothes said, "No." ”

Wu Hongwen said: "Then why did my predecessor ask me to invite you to drink?"

The old man in ragged clothes said, "I can tell you a few stories." ”

Wu Hongwen said: "Tell a story?"

The ragged old man smiled and said, "After listening to my story, you will always feel that your money has not been spent in vain, and the wine has not been drunk in vain. ”

Wu Hongwen said: "I don't know how many pots of wine my predecessors want to drink?"

The ragged old man said, "It depends on how many stories the young man has to listen to." ”

Wu Hongwen asked, "Then what if I don't dare to be interested in the stories of my predecessors?"

The old man in ragged clothes said, "The old man spit out all the wine he had drunk." ”

Wu Hongwen only smiled bitterly.

He had sat down across from the old man.

The bartender brought up two pots of wine and put one in front of Wu Hongwen and the old man.

Wu Hongwen said: "I haven't asked for advice yet..."

The old man in ragged clothes interrupted him and said, "Why do you have to know each other when you meet?"

Wu Hongwen laughed and said, "Okay! Well said!"

The wine glasses in the hands of the two collided and drank it all.

The old man in ragged clothes put down his wine glass and said slowly: "The old man only met you today, an interesting person, what is the difference between those two monks and the dead?"

Wu Hongwen didn't know how to answer this.

This is obviously talking about the monk and the lama who eats noodles.

But it was as if they hadn't heard.

The lama was still chewing on the wine with a mouthful of meat, and the monk was still chewing the steel with his steel teeth.

The old man in ragged clothes said slowly: "The old man will first tell you the story of this lama and monk." ”

Wu Hongwen said: "It seems that it is not what I want to hear you say, but what you say, I will listen to it." ”

The old man in ragged clothes suddenly raised his eyes and looked at Wu Hongwen and said, "When you invited me to drink, did I choose the wine?"

Wu Hongwen smiled and said, "No." ”

The old man in ragged clothes suddenly said, "That story should naturally be my choice." ”

Wu Hongwen laughed and said, "It seems that you are going to talk about the wine and spit it out." ”

The old man in ragged clothes also laughed and said, "Never." ”

The old man was about to speak, but he saw another person enter the doorway.

It's a monk again.

A middle-aged monk.

It's just that this monk is big and fat, and the door of the noodle shop is too small, so he already needs to come in sideways.

And he also needs to keep his head down.

Although no one in the noodle shop paid attention to him, he laughed and said, "Hahaha, great, I'm going to be in more rain than you." ”

Wu Hongwen was looking at him, and he seemed to feel that someone was watching him, so he also stared at Wu Hongwen and said, "I also want to get more rain in the rain." ”

There was still no one talking in the noodle shop.

The fat monk continued: "I have a wide body, I must be drenched a lot more than ordinary people, it is better to drench more, it is better to drench more." ”

His words are a bit confusing.

He seemed to be talking to everyone, and he seemed to be talking only to himself.

He walked in and looked around at the three free tables.

He found a table that looked the latest and cleanest, and then moved a stool that looked new and clean before sitting down.

He asked the bartender for a drink and a glass.

The bartender brought the glass and flask up.

The fat monk angrily rebuked: "Bastard, my wine jug should be the largest, the wine should be full, and my wine glass should be the largest, bigger than everyone else's." ”

The bartender had to change.

The ragged old man smiled slightly: "It seems that Shaoxia is going to buy an extra pot of wine." ”

Wu Hongwen said: "Oh?"

The ragged old man slowly took a puff of his cigarette and said, "Because I have one more story to tell you." ”