Someone asked: "How can you remember so clearly? How long has it been?"

How can he remember? In the memory of Jiang Yan in the Shang Xiu Jie, it is a plain half year. In the memory of Xue Zhengyi in the Xiu Xiu, it is a year of great feelings.

In the memory of ink burning, it is gradually desperate, and it takes thirty-five days to live. Every day is not as good as death, every day is still purgatory.

At that time, when the price adjustment order came out, people were worried, and Duan Yihan and the children could not get enough food. They could only rely on smashed vegetable leaves and moldy rotten rice noodles. Later, more and more people were unable to eat, and they could not even get the leaves. In the midst of difficulties, the ink can't help but say to Duan Yihan: "A mother, let's go to the Confucianism Gate to find him, and ask some food?"

Duan Yihan moaned: "No one can ask him."

Begging for mercenary along the street, nodding your face, losing your smile and drinking, are forced to work, but if you go to Nangong Yan, the meaning is different.

Although Duan Yihan was poor and stumbled, he did not want to break the bottom line of this last layer.

She refused, and the ink was no longer mentioned.

The child is not eye-catching, his skill is surprisingly agile, and on the ninth day of the promulgation, he finally stole a white radish in the ground.

Duan Yihan carefully hid the white radish, and only cooked a big fist every day, the two separated. When I got the eighth meal, the radish was already rotten, but because I couldn't see anything that could be fruitful for a long time, Duan Yihan cut the remaining rotten radish again and managed to cope with it for a few more days.

On the twenty-first day of the price adjustment order, they ate the last radish and could not find any food to fill the hunger.

The twenty-fifth day.

Rainstorms in the sky, there are cockroaches in the ground, and the ink burns them together, picks up some rain, cooks and eats.

The feeling of being slippery in your mouth is disgusting. The ink burns and these small animals that are not thin, muttered sorry. There is really nothing to fill your stomach. If you have passed this time, you are his grace. Seeing pity in the sky, he does not want to eat grace again, when will this nightmare come...

The twenty-eighth day.

The ink burned.

Even if the children are talented and aura, they can't stand the hunger and toss.

Duan Yihan has long lost his strength and his eyes are empty.

On this day, with her ink burning, she finally made up her mind to get out of the sheltered house and slowly walked toward the towering fairy city of the Confucianism Gate. She had her own bottom line and would rather die than go to Nangong.

But the child is innocent, he is still so small, how can she leave the world with her.

The people in the hall have all been exposed to sin, and the ink is guilty and sinless, but it is too miserable.

Someone slowed down the tone and sighed and asked: "Have you got it?"

"No." Moeburn said, "The bad luck, when going, Nangong Yan is quarreling with his wife."

He paused and continued: "When the lady of the city saw her, she was furious. She was a violent man. Not only did she give me a star-and-a-half food, but she also drove her out of the Confucianism."

"What about Nangong?"

"I don't know." Mohburn said, "My mother did not mention him."

It may be blocked, or it may just be standing next to it, and I can't help it.

I don’t know what happened on that day, only knowing that when Auntie came back, she was covered in scars. She squatted in the wood house and held him without talking. Later, she began to cough up blood, vomiting blood and stomach juice outside, and the room smelled of sour and sour.

The thirty-fourth day.

Duan Yihan is almost out of order, almost unable to speak, not crying.

This evening, she recovered from her fainting and recovered her strength. Seeing that the ink was burning around her, trying to warm her with a thin body. She was very light and light, and said to him very gently: "Small children, there is a way to go back to Xiangtan."

"A mother..."

"Go back to Xiangtan, go find your sister, and report to you." Duan Yihan stroked the ink of the ink, "Go to Xiangtan to report, don't stay in Linyi to seek revenge... Listen to the words of A Niang, well... At the beginning, A Niang came to Linyi I owe you a lot of money for your sister, but it’s not clear...you go back, stay with her, do something for her, and ask her to be happy. In the days to come, if others give you kindness, they must be good. Remember."

The ink burned with tears and looked up at the firewood room. She described the skinny face.

Duan Yihan's eyes are black and shiny, even with some grape-like purple.

"And then go back."

That is the calculation of the ink burning before the death of Duan.

She was afraid that after she left, the child would go on a wrong path, so he must be so sure that he must leave this sad place.

If a person has a head, he will not be thinking about it, and it is not easy to fall into the trap of hatred.

She gave him a head - say goodbye.

Don't take revenge.

The thirty-fifth day.

This ridiculous price adjustment was finally abolished in the riots, lasting for only a month and five days.

For the rich people, it is like a farce has finally come to an end. Linyi was full of smoke and smoldering in the city, and they woke up in the soft warm pockets, took the sip of the eight treasures on the maid's side, picked the teeth, heard the news that the price adjustment was invalid, but also made a few complaints. , yawned.

Everything is irrelevant.

But for the ink burning, it is a very exciting thing.

I don't have to worry about the rations, so the good-hearted people on the street have increased, and the ink burns a cake, and even a bowl of poor meat porridge.

He was reluctant to drink in one bite, carefully in his hand, and he wanted to go back soon and hold it to the sick mother.

Meat porridge is such a good thing, A Niang drink, can definitely recover?

He couldn't wait to use this bowl of porridge to save his mother's life, but he didn't dare to go home. This porridge bowl is cracked, next to a big mouth, if it runs fast, it is a pity to splash it out.

He went back to the firewood room again and again.

"A Niang -!"

He held the broken bowl in his hands, and used the dirty head of the melon seeds. The little milk dog usually opened the broken firewood, and his face was full of laughter, full of embarrassment for the future.

How good, there is meat porridge to drink, A Niang will soon get better, and finally spring blossoms, they have to go on the road together, go back and go. Where the songs and dances are flattened, there will be no hungry, there is a sister who is surnamed, and they finally have no need to be displaced and beg for a living.

How nice, they go home together.

"Oh," he said.

The door opened.

"She is lying inside." In the heart of Dan, the ink burned quietly.

Other people are either surprised by his coldness, or his teeth are cold and cold.

This person, who mentioned the death of his mother, was calm and calm. There was no temperature, no waves, no tears.

But no one has ever thought about how many years of soul-wounding nightmare, in order to break the liver and intestines, to smooth the scars, to get such a well-waved face.

"I call her, she doesn't wake up." Mo burned, "She won't blink again, and she can't drink that porridge anymore."

Long silence.

Mrs. Wang trembled and said, "That... later, you... you are alone, back to Linyi?"

The ink shook his head and shook his head: "I went to the Confucianist door."

Someone "ah!" said a cry, "You, are you going to seek revenge?"

"My mother said, "Repay it, don't seek revenge." The ink is faint. "I didn't want to seek revenge. I just wanted to bury my mother. But I don't have the money, and I don't have time to raise it, so I went to his house. Ask him to give some money."

"Have he given it?"

The ink burned almost a smile and said: "No."

"No, no? But as you said before, Nangong is very strict, and there are still some pictures of your mother, how can you even lose money?"

Ink ignited: "Because he sent his wife and found a short-sightedness not long ago, he passed away."

"what?!"

Jiang Yan raised his eyes: "...The wife of Nangong Yan did go very early, and he still committed suicide..."

"The woman was pregnant, but her husband was entangled with others outside. After giving birth to the child, she always clashed constantly, and her life was extremely unsatisfactory. I went to the house to find them on the day, and after she bumped into her, she It became more and more furious. It was said that she stabbed Nangong Yan with a knife at that time, and angered Nangong and said that she would retire her wife."

The ink burned and paused, and then said: "She can't stand it. In the middle of the night, she died. She walked a few days earlier than my mother."

When I heard this, everyone did not know what to say. In the beginning, there was a dew of love and enthusiasm. In the end, the beautiful people were fragrant and jade, and they were also home-breaking. The cause and effect cycle in the world is probably the same.

"When I appeared, Nangong Yan was being reprimanded by the head. His wife's family also came. It is a famous merchant in the Linyi." The ink burns, "Nangong has been smashed by the dog, and he is annoyed." Suddenly see me, where is there any good temper."

Mrs. Wang is the softest heart. Although it is known that the ink is not a blood relative, it is also a pity for the heart.

This past event, the ink is really not willing to mention.

The eyes of Nan Gong Yan at that time were on the face of those who were hanging.

There is also the mourning hall of Mrs. Nangong, the golden paper and silver flowers, the paper-small children, the spiritual tools piled up in the mountains, the beautiful embroidered souls, the black-haired nanmu lacquer, and too many things.

Hundreds of people lingered on both sides to guard the spirit of the woman who was looking for a short-sightedness.

The long lamp is filled with sperm whale oil, and the ninety-nine-volume heart-shaped dish is silently burned, the wind blows away the smoke, and the powder is fragrant.

Too lively scenes.

And what about his mother?

Xiangtan Lexian section Yi Han, only one piece of cloak that may be worn off, perhaps a thin and thin young child.

She didn't even have a straw mat.

"It’s hard to find a shot when you hit three feet."

- That is the anger of the South Palace, extremely desperate, and the words of the ink.

Then the man, under the watchful eye of the head, under the watchful eyes of his parents, pushed the illegitimate child out of the door and refused to recognize it.

Mrs. Nangong died, when she painted the golden lacquered enamel, the agate fragrant beads, the snow cold shroud, the corpse was not rotted, the silk was covered, the satin covered the eyes, and the crane was on the road.

Duan Yihan died, a corpse, one person tears, two yin and yang, no other. According to the meaning of Nangong Yan, she should not be extravagant for a thin wood coffin.

So, who dares to say that people are equal before death?

Destiny is unfair from the beginning.

To the end.

She is still as muscular as jade.

She has decayed into mud.

"I dragged her to the mass grave and fell to the funeral." The ink burned the numbers and understated.

He did not elaborate on how he pleaded with the gentleman to carry them on a journey, and how to spend the fourteen days of the rotten and stinky body dragged to the suburbs.

He did not say how he used his hand to open the rock, shred the soil, and buried the mother's skinny body.

Ink burning is not used to complaining before people.

He has always been a person who buried the past very deeply, and he will not be ignorant if he is forced to do so.

He has been humiliated, malicious, blind, and defamatory in the first ten years of his life. He has a hard heart like iron, and he doesn't care how others look at him. He simply disdains that someone sympathizes with him.

"Then I went to Xiangtan."

He couldn't stand the place of Linyi again. One day, he hid behind the board of the city priests and sneaked out of the city.

He began to walk to the side of Hunan according to his mother's jealousy, and spent half a year, from midsummer to early winter. When the shoes were broken, they walked barefoot, and later they had thick shackles on their soles.

Just like this, he walked and asked, when he walked outside the Temple of Nostalgia, he finally fell into the haystack because of the freezing hungry.

"A Niang..." The little child was lying in the ground, and the messy Ufa was a pair of distracting eyes. He looked at the world.

It’s snowing, snow early this winter.

"I want to see you... Sorry... I can't hold it..."

The snow fell lightly, sighing softly, covering his eyebrows.

There was footsteps approaching in the daytime, oh, followed by a hand to open the grass, he heard a childish voice: "Master, you come! You hurry him, what's wrong with him?"

After a while, a pair of mans shoes approached, and a man was talking: "Don't worry, go back first. I will come see him."

The man’s voice was so cold and cold that he didn’t have much emotion.

The ink burned instinctively and felt scared. He instinctively felt that the boy was close, and the man was cold. He didn't know where the strength came from, and the desire to live made him raise his hand and smothered the young man's cloak in front of him.

Still not talking, tears will first collapse.

"rice……"

Hungry, beg you, I want to eat.

The boy who was shackled by him was Chu Xiening who went down with the sin of the day, and Chu Ning stunned: "What?"

The ink burned and lifted a small face that was dirty and couldn't work. He twitched and made a risotto, and the throat swallowed bitter. Everything in front of me is faint, dizzy, and screams in my ears.

He shed tears and pleaded for the people in front of him. He knows that if this little brother is the same as many of the old masters he has ever met, and he will abandon him, then he will not be able to live, and he will be angry. He is really no longer able to stand it anymore.

"eat……"

Later, Chu nightning gave him a pot of rice soup.

A pot of soup saved a person who was starving to death.

After drinking the rice soup, the ink burned away from the Temple of Nostalgia. At that time, his brain was groggy. For the appearance of "Meng Gongge", he only remembered a pair of eye-catching eyes, the eyelashes were very dense and long, others There is no more impression.

However, from the day of no sleep to the Xiangtan, he was wearing the cloak that his brother had given him. At that time, his body was small, and a young man's clothes were extraordinarily clumsy and funny, especially after wearing the hat, the cap almost covered his entire face.

There are always children on the road who are worried about food and clothing. They are leaning on their parents and smiled and said: "Hey, mother, look at the little girl, what is he wearing, really funny!"

The ink is not angry.

What is the cynicism of others? He was only grateful that this unfit cloak could shelter him from the rain and give him a gentle inch.

He is draped in it, and when it snows, the snow falls on him. At night, the darkness did not reach his heart.

And when night falls, he will be born from the fire, sitting on the knees and warming with his knees. He puts the cloak over his head, and the whole person indents, looking at the orange flame from the soft velvet.

The cloak is very warm, like the arms of A Niang, and the gentle phoenix eyes of Engong's brother... The little child curled up and slept like this, and even smelled the faint scent on the cloak in his sleep, like Leaning against a sea bream tree that is open to the scorpion.

Looking back at it, it’s no wonder that I always feel that the smell of Chu’s body is very good. As long as there is a breath in his pillow, he can always sleep peacefully.

It is no wonder that at first glance, the elders of Yuheng were seen under the Tongtian Tower, and they felt that the phoenixes that were falling were extremely gentle. It seems to have seen it everywhere.

It turns out that everything is causal.

He and Chou Ning... It was said that he had spoken so early, and he had contact with his body temperature. He even licked the palm of his hand. It turned out that so early, he smelled the flowers on the clothes of Chu night, and the old brother he had been looking for was around, and he never stayed away.

The ink burned and fell, and in this cold and cold Danxin Temple, there was a warmth.

But this is the secret between them. The ink burns in my heart, thinking is both sorrow and sweetness. He keeps this secret in his heart, and no one tells, nor does he say to everyone.

He took a deep breath and paused and continued: "After Xiangtan, I found the hurricane weak according to Aunt's widow."

At that time, only the five-year-old Xiaolinger was wrapped in a thick cloak belonging to the younger boy.

The cloak of the cloak was dragged on the ground, and it was already dirty. The child poked out a dirty bird's head from the fluff, and leaned back on the face of the yellow-skinny face. He whispered, "Is it a weak sister? Is it here?" ?"

"Is the hurricane weak?" The monk who was pulled by him laughed and curiously looked up and down him. "Lefang huakui? Although we don't sell it here, but for the girl's limelight, a few don't like it. She looks more like her songs? How old is your younger brother, actually knowing to find her?"

The ink burned his eyes, his eyes were sloppy, and he didn't understand her at all.

But the sneer in the girl’s eyes was red, and the ink burned so stunned. He glared at the collar of his cloak and blushes: "Please, I want to see my sister. I, my mother let me Come to her..."

"Hey? Who is your mother?"

"My mother's surname is called Duan Yihan..."

"Ah!" The singer changed her color and took a step back. She covered her with a slap, and even the original lazy peach eyes were round and round. "You, are you a child of Duan Lexian?"

When Duan Yihan was famous for his role in the Quartet, he never made a fortune. He often used extra jewellery money for those who were old and weak, and his voice was no longer the sisters. Therefore, this monk heard that he was a child of the girl. He immediately changed his attitude and was busy taking him to the greenhouse to see the hurricane in the high lying room.

Covering the door, the ink burned down to the hurricane, and originally told the local authorities about the matter. The hurricane was weak and weak, and the tears were wet.

She immediately found her mother, saying that she wanted to stay with her, and she refused to do so, but she couldn’t help but scream for a few times, and she looked at it and thought that the child could do something for the building, so she Reluctantly promised. Calling Hanako to enter the building is afraid of causing suffocation. According to the rules, I have to burn all the previous ones, and then thoroughly clean them.

There is no problem in taking a bath. When it comes to burning clothes, the ink burns and cries.

"Cry what! In the future, it is not not to buy you a new one!" Yan Niang took the hookah and hit the ink-burning head impatiently. "It’s interesting, the old lady gives it to live, and the others laugh too late, so you are so poor. kind!"

Insufficient smoldering sister, she has already said good things for him.

So he bit his lip and died, licking a pair of red eyes, standing in front of the fire and twitching.

He really didn't want to understand at the time, why is this all? Why he just wants to leave an old clothes, but because he is weak, because he is mean, because he is a stinky meal, in order not to provoke anger and trouble, he can only be taken from others by himself. Kneeling down. He can't struggle, can't say "no", and he doesn't even have the power to tears.

It once gave him so much warmth, pinning and relying on it. In order to shelter him from the wind and rain, the dirty color does not see the original color.

Now that he has a place to stay, he may never use it again. He just wants to wash it carefully and stack it neatly, even if it is no longer worn, and it is under the small box. It is his friend, not just an old clothes.

But everything can't help him.

With a bang, the dirty cloak was put into the flames, but the people who lost it were not allowed to give up, but at the end they were still dirty. For the ink burning, it is a cremation, a funeral.

He watched.

The flames of the fire slammed into the sky, and the earth was magnificently blurred.

——

"Slow down...not enough..."

"where are you come from……"

There is still a gentle voice of the boy in the ear. That was what he had received in his bleak life, and there was not much goodwill.

They are all gray.

The ink burned like this to the goddess of the drunken jade, and he also had a righteous surname, surnamed ink. Since then, it has become a miscellaneous little man in the building, and finally passed the Duan An birthday.

However, the good times are not long. At that time, the hurricane was not too young. According to the rules in the building, although the music house is no more than the brothel, but when it is old, if it does not make a full "self-pity fee," then the girls’ first night will be handed over to the niece. Sold to those who are wealthy.

The hurricane is weak and she has already earned a lot of money for the drunken house.

"There is still a difference of 150,000 gold." When the hurricane was weak, he smiled and said to the ink, "Small child, when your sister earns enough money, I can redeem my body. My sister will take you through a good life."

The ink burned was distributed in the house, and she rarely saw her. The mother-in-law kept her heart from letting the people in the building pull the gang, so the hurricane was weak and the ink burned, always quiet.

She reached out and squeezed his cheek, then stuffed him a candy: "Hey, take it. Unfortunately, I can't give you money, it will be discovered. The dry eyes are poisonous, hehe."

The ink burned and grinned, revealing a mouth that lacked milk teeth: "Well, thank you sister."

However, if the hurricane is weak and the difference is 150,000 gold, it will be able to redeem the body. Can this matter be unclear?

Although she was not moving on the face, her heart was in a hurry.

If the hurricane is weak, it will lose most of the source of money in the drunken building. Then the niece will figure out that before the hurricane is weak, it is necessary to make a good profit.

At that time, there were many big families with coveted winds and weak colors. The price was high enough for the mother to sit and eat for a lifetime. Ms. Niang finally moved her mind, carrying a weak hurricane, and made a deed with a rich businessman who could make money. The two men took advantage of the Shangyuan Festival, and the hurricane was weakly sitting on the floor, giving her a cup of tea that was added with medicine, and then brought it to the room...

On the day of the burning of the ink, I cooked the dumplings and carefully went to the warmer and gave it to my sister.

When he didn't go in, he heard the heavy gasping in the house. He was shocked and opened the door. A thick scent of scented scented scented his face and smoked him to vomit.

In the faint glow, he saw a rich and slick merchant like a streaky pork. The mouth was flowing, his clothes were wide open, he was struggling, and his body was weak and swaying.

"When it is!"

The Tangyuan porcelain bowl was broken on the ground, and the ink burned into the house. I didn't know where the strength came from. He was very amazing when he was a child. He yelled at the rich businessman, then hugged the fat man, and he cried. The pear blossoms with rain, and the hurricane is so overwhelmed that it is overwhelmed:

"Sister, let's go!"

"But you..."

"Let's go! I can't go, I have to catch him! If you don't leave, wait for the mother to come, let's confess here, you are going! Go! Go, I will run away!"

The weak wind is his benefactor.

The ink burned her away, fled the state, and never came back.

That day, he finally made a hero.

The hurricane weakly choked at him and escaped from the building. But the ink burned but did not have time to leave. When she heard the movement, she soon took the person up, and when she came up, she saw that the ink burned and shot the guest, and let go of the squad, the face of the gas was distorted, and she wanted to vomit blood.

Ms. Niang has a son, and his age is similar to that of ink. The son’s heart is poisonous, his stomach is bad, and his mother’s affection is so powerful that he has an idea—the child’s viciousness is sometimes so naive and terrifying. The boy punishes his peers who angered his mother by punishing the animals.

He found a dog cage and let people burn the ink inside. The cage is narrow and sturdy, the ink can only lie in the inside, can't lie, can't stand, they feed him the cold food like a dog, and it's like this for seven days.

For seven days, the ink was trapped in an old house with a weak hurricane, and the smell of incense in the house was mixed with the smell of the body/liquid of the man.

He groaned and groaned.

Smell this groggy, sweet and greasy taste.

I want to spit.

Seven days.

From then on, he smelled incense and was disgusting, and there was fear and horror from the bones.