As if fallen into a dream
That is a thousand-year-old town called Qingyan, the ancestral home of Xia Mochen's father's family. Because of the long distance and inconvenient transportation, Xia Mochen has never been there despite growing up so big.
In this era of airplanes and high-speed trains, the only way to get to Qingyan is still by old green train. There is no air conditioning in the train, even with the windows open, the carriage is still sweltering like a can being roasted over an open flame.
It takes almost 30 hours to get from home to Qingyan. After being steamed in a stuffy jar for 30 hours, the sweat and foam made me feel that the legendary purgatory was nothing more than this.
What's more, the old scar on Xia Muzhen's tiger mouth began to ache strangely, and with the vibration of the train wheels, the wound seemed to be burning like a fire, jumping in pain.
"Miss, isn't that an inflammation? It's hot on the train and wounds are easily infected if not treated properly." The uncle opposite kindly reminded her.
The cicada could only smile awkwardly.
How many years has this old wound been festering, and it still dares to follow the trend and stir up trouble here?
The inflammation that didn't seem like a big deal earlier became more severe as night fell. Mo Yan's whole body was chilled to the bone, shivering uncontrollably in the sweltering train carriage where everyone else was sweating profusely.
The quilt that had been annoying her just now suddenly radiated a warm glow, and she wrapped herself up in it like a dumpling, comforting herself by saying, "It's okay, I'll be fine after a good sleep."
Meng Lian felt like she was dreaming, and even in her dreams, she was so tired. In the depths of that dream, it seemed as if something was constantly pulling her forward, always running forward.
Bare feet treading on the golden leaves on the ground made a rustling sound, blending with the distant cicada chirping. Lifting one's eyes, only a faint glimpse of the azure sky could be seen, cut open by two gleaming blue swords, so blue it seemed as if they would drip down at any moment.
She ran to the front of a small courtyard and pushed open the wooden door, which was slightly ajar. She walked in involuntarily as she heard the melodious sound of a harmonica coming from inside.
Xia Mengzhen was stunned and couldn't help but follow the sound of the harmonica as she walked forward, stepped up onto the stone steps, and walked under the corridor.
The sunlight shifted at an angle, shining brightly through the bamboo curtains hanging under the corridor, illuminating a young man sitting in the old house.
He sat cross-legged on a straw mat, his hands clasped around the harmonica as he played intently. His back was straight as a pen, and his jet-black temples were long and sharp like a knife cut.
Xia Meng felt like her heart was going to jump out of her chest. She wanted to scream, but didn't know what to scream; if she didn't scream, she felt like her heart would burst.
It was as if he heard her rapid breathing, the young man in the room suddenly stopped blowing away, turned his head abruptly, a thread of clear and elegant gaze like a thin knife blade, pierced through the bamboo curtain.
"Is it you?"
The young man's voice was as beautiful as a cold spring in the mountains, clear and crisp with a hint of detachment. Yet his words were filled with such fervor. Xia Mochen felt as if her throat was being choked by an invisible giant hand, she couldn't breathe, let alone speak.
"I know it's you!"
The young man stood up from behind the curtain and rushed out, lifting the bamboo curtain. Dong dong dong, only wearing pure white socks, his feet made a loud noise on the floor.
A dazzling array of lights and shadows, as if countless golden butterflies were dancing in the air between heaven and earth, blocking Xia Mei's eyes.
She didn't have time to see clearly the young man's appearance, only in the golden butterfly dance seam, saw his thin and tightly pursed lips.
Deep red as blood.
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Thank you for the red envelope from Lan.
