The sky and the earth are vast, and the yellowing afterglow is sprinkled one by one.

In the dimness, the ancient road of yellow sand and concrete stretches to the sunset on the horizon, the smoke and sand are thin, the wind is bleak, and there is no one; in the twilight, the green ancient trees and wild grasses connect the green mountains and the smoke in the distance, the blue color is thick, the shadows are thick, and there is nothing.

In the gloom, Mo Xiaohe, who did not have a thin horse with the west wind, was smoking cigarettes, straw sandals and rags, like a traveler in the dust, holding a sword with both hands and calm eyes.

He got up slowly, looking at the speckled light and shadow, not daring to move forward.

Mo Xiaohe is not a poet who likes to be sad and sentimental for no reason.

He is not a timid man who easily retreats when he sees the wind and rain, difficulties and dangers.

There was nothing in front of him, no one in front of him, as if he was the only one in a radius of hundreds of miles. Nor did it give him a suffocating sense of loneliness.

Even if he was only four years old and weak ten years ago, he was not afraid of Anan, even in the face of Lao Shrimp; many days ago, he was not afraid of thousands of troops and horses, and he was not afraid of all the officials and eunuchs in the entire Ximen County.

But now looking at the empty front, he was afraid.

Because in front of us is Ten Mile Street. Old Shrimp and Uncle Ying are no longer there.

It is a pity that the time is prosperous, but now that nearly 100 people have died, he can't imagine that it is now dilapidated and barren, orphans and widows.

If he hadn't been so lazy at that time, and wanted to go back to Shili Street to rest for the night, and then ride his horse alone, he wouldn't have let the stupid people of Shili Street inexplicably kill and injure nearly 100 people.

Of course, if he was alone and rivaled his sister Mo Xiaoyan earlier, it would not have caused a tragedy.

But Mo Xiaohe blames no one, not his sister, only himself.

Qiankun Lang is not afraid of death, so he will not die.

Mo Xiaohe, who had never drunk alcohol, took a big gulp of wine, and unconsciously held the sword in his hand tightly, his eyes were blazing.

I saw a sound and shadow slowly walking out of the darkness and vastness.

This is the figure of an old man, no shoes, only a pair of shorts on the lower body, the upper body is bare, and the old flesh is horizontal. The man held an old fan in his hand and shook it gently, walking carelessly.

The old man suddenly stopped, crossed his hands on his hips, like a bold urinating posture, and shouted at Mo Xiaohe, "Xiaohezi, this is all at the door, why don't you come in and sit?"

Mo Xiaohe's eyes must be fixed, and he was unable to squat down in a trance, his temperament was as cold as his, but at this time, the tears were dripping, and it looked like a warm stream from his stomach into the Tianling Gai.

While crying, he smiled neither shy nor lively, "Uncle Ying, are you not dead yet?"

"Uncle, how can I die so easily?"

Uncle Ying sat down on the big stone beside Mo Xiaohe, snatched the wine jug in the latter's hand, and gulped down like a rain after a long drought, with an endless aftertaste.

"Uncle, I'm old, my eight-pack abs have folded into an old skin, and I'm about to fall off when I look at it, but it's still too early to die. ”

Like an eight-year-old child, Uncle Ying lowered his head and played with the old meat in his stomach, grinning stupidly, "It's you, you're young, but old-fashioned." The uncle was angry when he saw it. ”

The fan in Uncle Ying's hand slapped Mo Xiaohe's head heavily. The latter was stunned, crying in his eyes, but laughing in his mouth, unable to say a word.

"It's a good year, and I'm so timid that I don't dare to go in when I get to the door. Are you still afraid that the dead ghosts on Shili Street will bite you?

Uncle Ying took a sip of wine, just like when he killed the enemy on the battlefield, and as if he was reprimanding his own child, his eyes widened, and his neck straightened, but there was no reprimand in his tone, "Don't be afraid, they dare to bully you, uncle, I will kill his mother with a sword." Big living people, are you still afraid of dead ghosts?"

Mo Xiaohe looked at Uncle Ying in a daze and didn't say a word.

As if his thoughts flew to the ancient battlefield on the desert frontier, the yellowed old eyes hidden under Uncle Ying's wrinkles glowed with golden light, "Uncle I had a fight with the desert barbarians in the north back then. This group of barbarians is not simple, they eat horse meat and drink horse blood, carry big knives bare-chested, and scream"

"But these boys don't look bad, even if they are blowing up. Uncle, the drum battalion led by me is a good man, and 500 people dare to cut down thousands of people in this group of girls. Isn't it just that the white knife goes in and the red knife comes out, who is not afraid of death?"

"In the end, the desert was full of blood and corpses, and I was left standing and surviving, so it was called a tragedy. ”

Uncle Ying glanced at Mo Xiaohe with disgust, "Only a hundred people have died now, so you are afraid of ghosts and dare not go home?"

Mo Xiaohe lowered his head deeply and said to himself, "But if it weren't for me, they wouldn't have died." ”

"Ratchassim. You are not a fool to live your own life, who will die for you?"

Uncle Ying's fan slapped Mo Xiaohe's head again, "Old shrimp, this stupid hat, wants to find his brother to fight for his life, blame you?"

"This group of second-class goods on Shili Street, after two sips of wine, I thought that the world was invincible. They are carrying knives and want to go up themselves, blame you? These people always think that the king of Shili Street, Lao Tzu, can't afford to provoke them. If they knew that the person who came was coming for you, not for Ten Mile Street, would they go?"

As the old soldier Uncle Ying spoke, he habitually stared at the beads of his eyes, and roared angrily, "People die every day in Great Xia, bad people die, and good people will die unjustly, and you blame yourself for not being able to save them?"

Uncle Ying's lips were foaming, "Uncle, every time I kill someone, I just have to kill whether it's right or not, whether this person is worth killing or not." If you can kill it, you can slash it with a sword, and never think about anything else. ”

"Li is a little more indifferent. But both horizontal and vertical are dead, old and sick are dead, natural disasters and man-made disasters are all dead, and who dies is not a well-deserved death?"

Mo Xiaohe, who was full of tears, suddenly had a dull look. If it's right, just slash it down, and don't want anything else? If it's right, just rush over, don't care about the sides of you?

This is indomitable, a sword, a thought?

Mo Xiaohe convulsed and grinned and wanted to laugh, but he couldn't laugh. But what's right?

"Don't think about messy stuff. ”

Uncle Ying's old voice interrupted Mo Xiaohe's thoughts, "Xiaohezi, do you know what I mentioned, uncle, how the battle with the northern barbarians started?"

"The reason is very simple, that is, that group of northern barbarians crossed the border and killed dozens of soldiers in my battalion and slaughtered hundreds of villagers in border villages. But the emperor surnamed Zhao in Hanoi, Daxia, didn't know what to think, so he didn't give the order to fight back. ”

Uncle Ying couldn't help Mo Xiaohe replied, "But I don't accept it, it's my soldiers, my brothers, and the people under my jurisdiction." "I don't care about the Great Xia Bird Emperor anymore. Immediately, he raised his arms in the camp and shouted to a good man who is not afraid of death, and he will go back with me if he wants. There were more than 500 people in the camp, and the first half of the men followed me and slaughtered all the barbarians who caused trouble. ”

"These five hundred and sixty-seven are all good men. I was the one who deserved to die in this battle, but in the end, I was the only one who survived. ”

Uncle Ying snorted drunkenly, and his tone was normal, "But I didn't think about dying, if I survived, I would live well." ”

A good man is not afraid of bullying, a good man is not afraid of death, and a good man is not afraid of thorns and setbacks.

Dead, well-deserved.

Alive, above board.

Is this a sword and a thought?

Mo Xiaohe gurgled and took a big sip of wine.

"Xiaohezi, uncle, I was also young, and the battle with the northern man, the uncle was also afraid. But it's over. ”

"It's not a god-man in a storybook, except for the protagonist in the book, all fools, this is a real life. ”

"You're a fourteen-year-old hairy boy, you're so beautiful, don't be depressed here, if you do this uncle, I won't drink with you, it's a shame. ”

"Uncle, the first time I saw your calm eyes, I knew it wasn't easy. If you really have a kind, make an oath, and one day, rush to the Forbidden City and chop up the old man surnamed Xia. Don't bother uncle, my saliva. ”

In a trance, Mo Xiaohe wiped his nose and tears, and finally smiled without being shy or lively, "Uncle Ying, let's dry this pot of wine, right?"