In the eighth month of the lunar calendar, the autumn sun brings the breath of harvest to all things, a season of reunion and harvest. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

The heat of summer has been eliminated, the sky is clear, and the rain is much less.

The maple leaves on the mountain have begun to turn red, and the breeze blows, and the houses hidden under the autumn leaves seem to dance in a fiery red cloud.

The stream in front of the mountain is also getting brighter, and it seems that everything is back to early spring.

Although there are not many fallen leaves on the deserted mountain road, it has long been occupied by weeds, but along the gap between the grasses, you can vaguely see that the road was originally paved with bluestone.

A man came from a distance, stopped for a moment at the intersection, and then slowly climbed the mountain.

He was dressed in a very plain blue cloth gown, but his hair had long since been washed white. Wearing a pair of short cloth boots on his feet, it is also old and outdated. Behind his back was a strip that was also wrapped in plain cloth, and I don't know what it was.

Looking at his outfit, it seems that he is a scholar who failed in the exam, and I don't know what he is doing on this deserted mountain?

Looking at his age, he is only twenty-six or seventeen years old at most, but his face does not have a trace of youthful vitality that a young man should have, and some are just a kind of vicissitudes that do not match his age, or desolation.

Could it be that this young man who is only in his twenties, but his heart has already experienced too much sorrow in the world?

There was no superfluous expression on his face, just a kind of depression. Especially in the eyes that should be infinitely energetic, there is a kind of loneliness like the desolation of the last days, and that deep confusion.

Is he bothered by something?

The tight corners of his lips, coupled with the lowered eyebrows, combined with his pale face, made his temperament even more cold.

He had black hair like black jade, almost as shiny as a woman's hair, and this was a very beautiful hair, if it weren't for the slight whiteness of his temples.

Although it was just some sparse white hair, it looked so dazzling mixed with black hair that it couldn't bear to let people look at him more.

Worried, the young man's head turned white.

I don't know what kind of deep sorrow made him have gray hair at this age.

Huafa was born early, and the boy was white-headed, it's a pity!

It's just that in him, it's a pity that it's not just that.

He walked slowly, and his steps did not span much, but the rhythm and rhythm were exactly the same, and the distance he took each step was almost equal.

However, his eyes were always just looking ahead, and it was clear that he knew the road well. Or rather, he is more than familiar with this road.

He has walked this road at least a thousand times.

Perhaps, he wasn't just walking. What he has walked through is the memories in his heart, those memories that are about to fade.

He walked slowly ascent, and finally stopped in the clearing at the top of the mountain.

At a glance, the large building complex in front of him is still majestic, but the original brilliant glazed tiles have long lost their former brilliance, and the tiles are full of last year's residual leaves.

What was once a thriving place, now there is only an almost lonely air of desolation, which makes people feel sad. It's even a little gloomy, even though it's the middle of the day, but it always makes people feel panicked.

He stood still and stared at it, although the wall had not yet collapsed, it had long since been broken, especially the gate, which was originally imposing, was now mottled at all.

This is the power of time, not only the old people's faces, but also the vicissitudes of people's hearts. At the same time, even human memories have been erased.

While time has diluted the pain in people's hearts, it has also sealed the memories in people's hearts.

The years are merciless!

Time has passed, and I don't know how many people still remember that this dilapidated, desolate and dilapidated building complex is the famous and powerful martial arts family of Qingshui Villa ten years ago.

Perhaps, he is the only one!

So who is he?

Time is the most ruthless thing in the world, and it has erased everything without even realizing it.

The memories that were once unforgettable have long been faded by time.

Just as Shimizu Villa has been changed by time, he has also been changed by time.

He couldn't have imagined that when he returned to Qingshui Villa again, there was no trace of the past here.

And he is no longer the young boy he once was.

There is a stream in front of the door, and there is a large deep pool at the bottom of the cliff behind the mountain, so the ancestors named this place Qingshui Villa.

The former Qingshui Villa, as the No. 1 martial arts family on the rivers and lakes, is so extraordinary, and now?

Ten years have passed, and people have long forgotten about this family.

He is the same, as time flies, and he has long been forgotten by time.

Nowadays, will anyone still remember Shimizu Villa, will they remember him?

Now, I'm afraid there are few people who still remember him, maybe not even one, because even he himself doesn't remember what he used to be.

Or perhaps, in fact, there are still people who remember him, such as her.

I still remember him now, I'm afraid it's just her!

What about him, who else does he remember?

Who will a person who has forgotten himself?

Perhaps, it's just her!

So who is she?

After standing in front of the door for a while, he finally slowly pushed open the door and walked in slowly, and immediately saw the martial arts arena, which was enough to accommodate two or three thousand people to practice martial arts.

I still remember that once, in the big square paved with blue bricks in front of me, the majestic shouts of the disciples who practiced in the morning still echoed in my ears. I remember that he used to play here with his younger siblings and the children on the village still echoing in front of me.

Everything that used to be is still vivid, and it is still so clearly visible.

However, although the memory is still as clear as yesterday, although the past has never been blurred, everything is not going back after all.

All of it, but it's just a past that can't be traced.

After he stayed for a while, he walked further along the corridor on the edge of the martial arts arena, walking past the rows of neat houses on both sides of the martial arts arena, remembering that this was once the residence of the disciples of Zhuangzhong.

Walking and walking, I finally came to the end of this corridor. At the end of the corridor is the core of Shimizu Villa, where the meeting office, the hospitality office, and the main hall that handles the affairs of the village are all here, and it is also the residence of the middle and high-level people of the village.

He didn't stop long, didn't even look at it, and walked straight to the back, past the house where the servants of the village lived and where the storehouse was kept.

His pace even sped up a few points, he wanted to go all the way to the back mountain, he wanted to go up to the open space in the back mountain. There, it used to be the place where he practiced swords, and it was also where he taught his younger brothers and sisters to practice, and more often he was pulled by his sister to catch butterflies, dig birds' nests, and fly kites...... place.

He wanted to see if the maple forest in the back mountain was still there.

But as he walked, he suddenly stopped, in front of a courtyard at the back of the villa.

He still didn't go to see the maple grove after all.

He stopped in front of the courtyard gate and stared quietly into the courtyard.

Not much has changed here, once upon a time, it was lonely and deserted, and even before, few people came. Now, it's just a little more secluded.

In the entire Qingshui Villa, the only thing that hasn't changed is probably here.

He stood at the gate of the courtyard and stared, and for a moment, it seemed as if he was caught in the memories of the past.

The question he had asked her again rang in her ears:

"Xue, do you know what this place is called?"

"What's the name"?

"Listen to the Snow Pavilion".

After standing for a while, he finally slowly walked into the Tingxue Pavilion.

The original bluestone-paved path has long been completely covered with weeds, and the mangosteens planted on the side of the road have also died. However, the clusters of wild chrysanthemums are still there, and a few of them have already bloomed.

The pale yellow flowers swaying back and forth in the wind are the most tenacious symbols of life?

In a trance, he seemed to see that there seemed to be a young man in the courtyard, who was seriously sticking the pieces of paper in his hand on the bamboo frame that had already been tied to the side.

The boy was so focused that it made people feel like he was at all his age.

He was the boy.

That boy was him.

Or rather, the boy was who he used to be.

He is the first family of martial arts who once moved the world and shocked the rivers and lakes, the eldest young master of Qingshui Villa, the son Yang Xiaofeng.

It's just that too much time has passed, and that was many years ago.

For a moment, it seemed as if he had gone back to a long time ago, when he was just sixteen years old.