Chapter Eighty-Nine

In the ninth month of the lunar calendar, it is late autumn.

Slightly cool to cold.

Before dawn and the rooster did not crow, the little girl of the 'Yaya' noodle restaurant got up early, pinned the two mother's favorite lanterns to the door of the small noodle restaurant, lit the candles in the lanterns, moved a wide chair, rolled up her legs and curled up on it.

It's like a little orange cat that hasn't woken up yet, not to mention lazy, let alone vibrant, just blindly struggling to keep its eyes on and look into the distance.

The handsome little lady who got up early and was busy brought a quilt to her daughter, and the little girl insisted on saying no, saying that she would fall asleep if it was not cold, and the handsome little lady who was still more attractive than ordinary women of the same age did not insist.

She knows the little girl's toughness. It's like her father's kind of stubbornness that can't be pulled back by eight cows.

......

The nightclubs of late autumn become longer, and the dawn will come later, and it will be a full hour after the rooster crows before a glimmer of light appears in the East.

The little girl curled up on the wide bamboo chair rubbed her eyes, pulled her cuffs to wipe the mottled dew on the green silk, jumped off the bamboo chair, stretched her bones, and yawned long.

Finally dawn.

The wait is always long, longer than a cold winter night.

The little girl took advantage of the light of the beginning of heaven and earth to look into the distance.

He, the far away one he left.

He said he would come back, and she believed it.

Firmly believe.

At any time, in any corner, at any age, there will always be a figure, or a thought, stranded in the depths of a person's heart without any responsibility, and can no longer be abandoned.

You can go to the family, the country, and the world, or you can be humble enough to eat, drink, and sleep.

The little girl had a thought in her heart, she was not going to tell anyone, not even her mother.

She was waiting for him.

As for why, she didn't think about it either.

He said that if he came back, he would give her a great opportunity, and she didn't care about chance.

What did she care? She didn't think about it.

She had told herself that even if he didn't come back, she would remember him as a mother remembered her father.

......

The closest to the first red sun is not the top of the mountain, but the small people who are busy in firewood, rice, oil, salt, sauce, vinegar and tea all day long.

Early in the morning, in every street and alley in Shacheng, the people in the market who were carrying burdens and shouting and selling, and the small people in the market who made a living in various ways were busy.

The shouting and selling voices came and went, and the voices were so simple and heavy.

The little girl smiled.

Even the golden cinnamon on the corner of the street, which had already withered in the autumn wind, seemed to be a little happier.

A golden butterfly flew through the little girl's sight appropriately, looking for the residual fragrance of golden osmanthus flowers around a few autumn chrysanthemums, dancing.

The little girl's smile widened.

She unfolded the palm of her left hand and used the fingers of her right hand as a pen, the fingertips in the palm of her hand, and worked hard to write.

"Golden butterflies!

Who are you dancing for?

It's late autumn.

The flowers will lose their smiles, and the grass will lose its luster.

The fallen leaves are accompanied by the autumn wind, and the eyes can only be bleak.

Can?

Looking back, it's golden everywhere.

The patches of crops, from a distance, looked like rolling mille-feuille waves. Looking closely, the rice smiled and bent over, the sorghum blushed, and the corn was happy.

You are cheering for the harvest, you are dancing for the little daisies in the garden with blinking eyes. ”

......

When the ten-zhang long crimson sword qi submerged into the burly and boundless body of the Thirteen Niangs, Xu Xiaoxian recalled Canglong and Jing Muxuan, flew back hundreds of zhang, held a gun in one hand, and watched from a distance.

It is still dozens of zhang high, the flames around her body are rising, and the Thirteen Niang, who has a great visual impact, seems to have forgotten the passage of time, and the pestle is there, motionless.

At that moment, time slipped away slowly, leaving only the desolation that had decayed to the extreme, telling the excitement and thrill of half an hour ago.

Ten years ago, in the Ten Mile Peach Garden, Xu Xiaoxian condensed the sword qi of the Crimson True Yuan in his body and melted the cliffs.

Can this time, like the ancient sage Xuanyuan Yellow Emperor, use the fire of the sky to incinerate the Heavenly Maiden Drought Fish, and use the fire of the Vermilion Bird to melt the Thirteen Niang who has practiced half of the "Heavenly Maiden Drought Sutra"?

Xu Xiaoxian didn't have a bottom in his heart.

......

The sun slowly climbed over the hill, chasing the footsteps of the flowing clouds higher and higher.

It's almost noon.

The Kui River, which had dried up before, was rushing eastward again.

I don't know how long it has been.

A dull wail sounded from the body of the Thirteen Niang of the Drought Fish.

It is extremely tragic, like a wail from the depths of the soul, and the soul is depressing.

Finally moving?

The young monk frowned, his expression was tense, he clenched the cloud dragon spear in his hand, the spear pointed to the ground, and he went out of the imperial court in one go, crossed the heavenly gate, jumped into the air with his strength, stood at a height of 100 zhang, and poured nearly sixty percent of the true yuan in his body into the cloud dragon spear.

If there was any movement in the body of the Drought Thirteen Niang, who was dozens of feet tall, it would be Xu Xiaoxian's condescending blow to greet him.

However, the change that Xu Xiaoxian expected did not happen.

After a loud bang.

The body of the Thirteen Niangs who are dozens of feet tall is like a pagoda formed by the condensation of sand, which has lost its fulcrum and collapsed like a withered and decaying body.

It's more like a candle thrown into the flames, which melts in an instant.

It's too late.

Flowing.

The thirteen mothers of the drought who were the best at killing the Yuan Infant in Jindan turned into ashes in an instant.

Only one piece of golden armor remained, the Xuantian Golden Armor.

and a scarlet volume of the "Heavenly Maiden Drought Sutra".

The young monk put away the two priceless trophies, looked at the still flowing Kui River, and sighed softly:

"I've slashed the drought on the Zengkui River. ”

......

The sun is gradually turning west, how far away is the night?

Not far.

The autumn wind blew the two lanterns on the door of the noodle shop, and it also tugged at her heartstrings.

The little girl was still waiting at the door of the noodle shop, watching the direction the young monk had left.

can still attract the attention of most men, and the still beautiful little lady looked at her daughter's lonely back, sighed, and said softly:

"Yaya, your father named you Lanyue.

I just want you to be like an orchid, like the moon, indifferent and natural.

The indifferent life is like a dark orchid, growing quietly and opening silently.

Flowering is not to compete with flowers, but to live up to life

, it's the same reason that I don't let you touch the sword. The more ordinary you are, the happier you will be.

Ordinary life, you can stay away from the hustle and bustle of the world, live alone in a secluded place and never be lonely, and never be lonely and self-appreciative.

Yaya, being a man like an orchid, troubles and sorrows will drift away with the wind, and happiness and joy will permeate everywhere. ”

The little girl suddenly turned around and said with a smile: "Mother, I know he will come back." ”

Knowing the daughter Mo Ruomu.

Qingxiu Xiaoniang shook her head and looked into the distance.

An emaciated young monk caught her eye, and her daughter greeted her with joy.

The beautiful little lady burst into tears in an instant, and muttered in a low voice:

"Life is like enjoying flowers, whether you look at it or not, the flowers are there.

Not sad, not happy.

”