Xiang Qianren built a mud wall outside the shop to form a small courtyard, and a banyan tree branch bud was moved in the center of the courtyard, and a stone table and stone chair were built next to the banyan tree for people to rest and cool.

The town is not big, and small things with big sesame seeds can also make trouble in the city, and soon some people knew that there was an old gentleman from the countryside who opened a private school in the south of the city, and did not charge school money, and only relied on some students' parents to receive rice porridge.

For a while, half-grown children in the city and outside the city who were bare-chested under the spur of their parents flocked here, who didn't want their children to read the sage books, not to mention the fame in the future, at least not to be like their own for a lifetime, not to know a single big word, and deal with the yellow sky and black soil all day long.

Yang Nianjun's surname is naughty, he is only five years old, and he is already one of the best children in the school, running with his bare butt all day long.

He is Li Muzi's child, his surname is his father, but his name is taken by his mother, and Xiang Qianren's gaze at him is always complicated and obscure.

Li Muzi's husband, Yang Nianjun's father is a dark-faced, honest and honest strong man, his heart is very hot, the mud wall at Xiang Qianren's door is his initiative to help, and he doesn't accept cash, just a smirk, his teeth are very white when he laughs, and I don't know if his face is too dark, or it is indeed white.

"Jin Se has fifty strings for no reason, one string and one pillar Si Hua Nian.

Zhuang Shengxiao dreams of butterflies, and hopes that the emperor will trust the cuckoo in spring.

There are tears in the pearl of the sea and the moon, and the blue field is warm and jade. Xiang Qianren carried his hands behind his back, tied up his gray hair with a coarse cloth, and kept pacing back and forth.

This situation can be recalled, but it was already clear at the time. ”

After a word, Xiang Qianren just walked to Yang Nianjun's place, he smiled, stretched out his hand to straighten the crooked tiger head hat on Yang Nianjun's head, and asked with a smile: "Nian'er, do you know the meaning of the last two lines of poetry?"

Yang Nianjun frowned together, stood up and bent over, and replied angrily: "Foolish and dull, please ask Mr. to solve your doubts." ”

Xiang Qianren has never taught these red tape festivals favored by Confucius, and it is estimated that his father and mother should have taught them secretly at home.

Xiang Qianren looked at Yang Nianjun's young age, like a toddler in Handan, his movements were embarrassed, he couldn't help but smile, his fingers lightly tapped the stone table, closed his eyes and smiled: "The meaning of this poem is that I didn't know how to cherish it before, and I regretted it after I missed it, but I can't look back like before." ”

"Nianjun, do you understand?"

Yang Nianjun scratched his head, his eyes widened and said, "The student understands." ”

Xiang Qianren laughed, walked straight into the room, and said as he walked: "That's all I have to say today." ”

As soon as the words fell, the children sitting on the stone chair jumped up and cheered, Yang Nianjun laughed the most happily, and before that, this group of children who were still bare-bottomed scattered as birds and beasts, and left the courtyard noisily.

The small courtyard gradually fell silent, Xiang Qianren walked out of the back room with a large jar of wine, sat down against the big banyan tree, and the dappled sunlight gently sprinkled through the gaps between the banyan leaves, hitting his old wrinkled face piece by piece.

The green plum wine was given by the man of the Wang family next door, and the right was given to his son as a tuition, and the wine was not a good wine, not a sweet and mellow one.

However, Xiang Qianren still likes it, he has drunk many good wines in the world, but he is the only one who does not have this green plum wine to make him comfortable, the astringency, sweetness, bitterness brewed in this wine, and even with that little bit of spiciness, he is particularly happy.

The astringent may be the lovesick cry that I hid in the dark and was difficult to talk about, the sweet one seems to be the path that I walked hand in hand by the stream under the moonlight that night, and the bitter one seems to be the passage of time, I am not married, you are married, and the spicy one is the pathos of such a time, and the smoke is about to fall into tears.

Xiang Qianren lifted the wine jar, put it to his mouth and sipped it slowly, regardless of the wine showing from the corner of his mouth, wet his white beard, and soaked his clothes.

He looked at the Qingluan Peak at sunset from afar, quietly looked at the hut at the foot of the mountain, the little lady in the green shirt, watched her live and cook, watched her gently wipe the dust on her body for her husband who had worked all day, and watched the two of them hug each other, and their faces were filled with a taste called happiness.

I guessed the beginning of the story, but I couldn't guess the end.

...........................

...........................

Spring, summer, autumn and winter come and go, and the big banyan tree goes from the flourishing of spring to the green of summer, then to the withering of autumn, and finally ushers in the depression of winter.

The banyan tree planted by his own hands in those years is now like a pavilion.

Xiang Qianren looked at it like this, it was a year of Jiazi, and Xiang's Zhuangzi had one more celebrity, which often attracted people from other places to watch, and they called him an old immortal.

In the past, Xiang Qianren was older than before, he was not old, his face was full of flabby wrinkles, he was old, and he was not good at talking to people.

He was no longer teaching, and often sat alone in the small courtyard, staring blankly into the distance.

The man of the Wang family next door died a few years ago, and it was his youngest son who inherited his wine business, and the wine was much better than his father, and the business was not the same as in the past, but Xiang Qianren had not drunk wine since the death of the man of the Wang family, because the wine was missing a taste called green plum.

In the past 60 years, there have been batches of young people in the rivers and lakes, and there are many people who have been crowned as a generation of pride.

Li Muzi is not old, the woman who was peerless back then, and the woman who was sinking into the fish and geese is now hunched over, her clear eyes are squeezed into a small slit by the loose muscles, and her hearing is not very good, she can't really hear when she speaks five or six meters away.

The man of the Yang family went when she was sixty years old, and the little trickster who ran around the streets all day long with his bare ass all day long has become a grandfather in the blink of an eye, and there are two two and one daughter under his knees, and they are very competitive.

Li Muzi still lives by the stream, and sits in front of the stream every day, not knowing what she is thinking, she is old, her eyes are spent, and she can't walk anywhere anymore.

Li Muzi sat by the stream as usual, watching the peach blossoms fall on the water, and then as the stream flowed into the distance, she suddenly felt a palpitation and suffocated, and fell heavily on the edge of the stream.

Wife, I'm here to accompany you, you must be lonely down there all these years, right?

A smile appeared on Li Muzi's face, which was no longer young and beautiful, and she knew that she was going to die.

Suddenly, a scene appeared in her mind for some reason, in a starry night, a half-grown teenager shyly held his hand and swore to himself,

Lizi, you must wait for me, and the day I return from wealth and glory, I will promise you ten miles of peach blossoms and marry you.

...............

...............

In a shop in the south of Xiangjiazhuang, a person known as the old fairy suddenly opened his eyes.

The first step is less than half of the ordinary person's step, and the white hair on his head turns black.

The second step is slightly faster, no different from ordinary people, and the rickety figure straightens up.

The third step is already the two-step interval of ordinary people's foot strength, and the wrinkles on the face slowly disappear.

And so on.

A suave young man, like a thunderbolt from heaven and earth, rushed to Qingluan Peak outside the city.

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