As long as my hair reaches my waist, marry me

Chapter 9
In spring, I remembered
The spring breeze blew up in the bridal chamber last night, and the old man was still separated by the Xiangjiang River.

Sleeping on the pillow for a while in a spring dream, traveling thousands of miles south of the Yangtze River.

—— Tang Cen Shen's "Spring Dream"

Regarding your story, I never know where to start.It was the storyteller's libretto that was absorbed and hidden by the flickering candlelight, a gust of wind wrinkled the ripples of the pond and swayed into the distance, or the sound of a bird was taken to the town by the flower seller before it could escape.

The morning sun shines on the screened window.Red and drunk.It seems to be the lazy moonlight, forgetting to withdraw the light, leaving half of the dream in the pond in the south of the Yangtze River.Misty.You light a stick of incense, in the carved attic.The green chrysanthemum in front of the window is quietly moored, as if it is still holding the notes from last night, whether it was the "Three Lanes of Plum Blossoms" or "High Mountain and Flowing Water" that you played to me, the flowers are like budding, and the lingering sound lingers on the beams.

In spring, I think of Jiangnan where weeping willows are everywhere,
Think of a fishing port by the shore of Taihu Lake, think of

So many cousins, walking on the willow embankment

(I can only marry one of them!)

Walking through the willow embankment, those many cousins

Ren Yi is so old
Ren Yi is old, in Jiangnan
(Three hours of jetting clouds in the south of the Yangtze River)

Even if we meet, they won't accompany me
Accompany me to pick lotus, accompany me to pick water chestnut

Even if we meet, meet in Jiangnan
Jiangnan in spring rain of apricot blossoms
——Yu Guangzhong's "Spring, Then I Think of It"

Maybe because of the violent wind and rain last night, the begonias in the courtyard fell to the ground.You radiate out, there is a trace of tiredness in your eyes.You pick up a falling flower and rub it carefully in the palm of your hand, as if you can see the smell of spring.Your long hair is as black as lacquer. I don't know whether it is the smell of flowers or wine, which makes you drowsy, and the light shines on you.You stretched out your slender fingers, and gently brushed off the dewdrops on the petals, not knowing which one was the tear that fell from the beauty last night.

The duckweed in the pond sticks out its small head among the ripples.Yang Guan slanted down from the gaps in the leaves, playing hide-and-seek with A Zhen's kitten on the ground.You are under the flower tree, reading the poems of "Guanju" and "Yiren".The jade hairpin you gave me, the top grade of Yu Qingcheng, is quietly parked on the side of the scroll.The shadows of flowers and trees swim forward, weaving beautiful brocade clothes on your body, like the dark fragrance floating by the water beside plum blossoms.

In April in the world, spring is as deep as the sea.You suddenly want to go to a distant place to explore a flower event in the south of the Yangtze River.You carefully painted your eyebrows and put on rouge.You faintly pass through a peach blossom forest, and the pink petals make your cheeks red.A waterway full of roses meanders into the distance.What you are going to is the beautiful town at the end of the waterway.

The flowers on the Moshang are undulating, the lights and shadows on both sides of the river are drooping, and the sound of oars is melodious.Where the orchid boat passed, the sky was reflected in the blue waves, with the color of a rose, and various unknown fragrances were rippling in the air.There is a unique fragrance in it that overwhelms all the floral fragrances.That is the fragrance of your daughter that I know well.

Passing through the long market, bypassing the ancient stage, on the edge of the town, there is a beautiful inn called Fengyue.Black tiles and white walls, moss covering the windows.It was overcrowded at one time.Legend has it that the young man in white used to play horses here and did not go there for three years.Legend has it that the proprietress of the inn also has a beautiful daughter, her eyebrows are like distant mountains, she is talented, and she can play the piano wonderfully.

You stood downstairs for a long time.The flower shadow slowly swims from the ankle to your skirt, your knee, and your arm, like the mottled and cool time.The creepers on the white wall are criss-crossed, like some kind of metaphor, which takes people's thinking.The lotus wind blows in the afternoon, the fragrance of the street fills the air, and the faint sound of the piano comes, unhurriedly, just like the rouge you put on your eyebrows, waiting for the returnee.

Then I thought of the lake of Duolian, the lake of Duoling
A lake with many crabs, Jiangnan with many lakes

The Little Battlefield Between the King of Wu and the King of Yue

(That war was beautiful enough)
Shih Tzu escaped
Fan Li is missing

missing in wine flags
(It takes only three hours to fly from Songshan)

Jiangnan of Emperor Qianlong

——Yu Guangzhong's "Spring, Then I Think of It"

In this spring, people will always think of you for no reason.Thinking of the ten-mile painting boat on the Qinhuai River, your gentle singing voice in the sound of oars and the shadow of lights, your eyes like waves and eyebrows like mountains, and a broken cherry; think of the bright moon on the 24th bridge, through thousands of hanging wickers, weaving a piece on your body The neon clothes called Yunjin; I think of the shadows and fragrance of flowers brought by your oil bicarriage in the north of Gushan Temple.I think of you picking lotus in Nantang, the lotus seeds are completely red, and you are shy and dodging.

Time is passing, years are flowing.Thinking of you in spring makes life beautiful and poetic.I want to become a flowering tree, blooming quietly beside you; I want to become a small boat, carrying you drifting with the waves; I want to become a lotus, blooming gracefully in the clear water In the middle, the fragrance is far away and clear, neither spreading nor branching, getting along with you day and night, staying together.

A promise to go to a world of mortals with you
Ask the world, what is love, directly teach life and death?Flying guests from all over the world, the old wings are cold and hot.Joy is fun, parting is bitter, and there are even more idiotic children in the middle, you should have something to say.Stratus cloud for thousands of miles, thousands of mountains and snow at dusk, who will the shadow go to?
On Hengfen Road, the lonely year of Xiaogu, the barren smoke is still flat.What's wrong with calling back the soul, and the mountain ghosts secretly cry about the wind and rain.The world is jealous, and if you don't believe in it, Yinger and swallows are all loess.For thousands of years, to keep it for the poets, sing and drink wildly, and visit Yanqiu.

——Jin Yuan Haowen "Moyuer·Yanqiu Ci"

A stick of incense quietly guarded a piece of time and space, and a tree of flowers bloomed with thousands of styles, just like a dream.We leaned against the flower tree, whispering softly, hugging lightly and kissing deeply.The time before the court, sprinkled on us like running water.The scene is like a freehand ink painting, the person in the dream is getting drunk with the flowers and sleeping deeply with the shadows.A pair of flying swallows makes their home under the eaves, and the beautiful time is like a poem, written under the white walls of someone's house.

Flowers bloom on Moshang, and spring returns slowly.Far mountains and near water, full of affection everywhere.

Later, you hugged me gently and whispered in my ear.I am in your arms, like a shy little beast, panting softly, unable to get rid of it, and unwilling to get rid of it.At that time, the flowers and trees around us were withering and blooming at the same time.The endless flower meaning, never ending.The scenery all over the world seems to be falling for us and blooming for us.

I like to sit quietly with you on the waterside pavilions, look at the white walls and black tiles of the people in the ancient town, the red lanterns are lined up along the river, the lush green vines hang down from the vermilion railings in front of the window, and the branches and leaves are reflected on the water, so green that it makes people feel beautiful. heartbeat.The beauty in the distance is close, and there is a young woman who is soft in Wu Yu.The mother of the ship outside the double bridge sang babbling, and the voice was so beautiful that it shook people's souls.Such a good day, such a beautiful scenery, I want to share with you in detail.

They say that there are thousands of beauties in the world, and there are also thousands of charms.But I just like you.When the wind comes, the bamboos are sparse, and when the wind passes by, the bamboos do not make a sound.In the many encounters in the world, your deep tenderness and passion always make me cry for no reason.Your compassion for all things in the world, and your unchanging perseverance for me, I don't know if it can be called, a gentleman is like jade, a chivalrous tenderness.

I used to wait for you by the Sansheng Stone for thousands of years, just begging you to look back and smile.I used to kowtow in front of the Buddha for thousands of years, just waiting for the fate of meeting you and me in this life.You are the lover of this life, and I am your alluring flower.I want to curl up with your warmth and nostalgia for the rest of my life. "Su Xi doesn't comb her hair, and the silk hair hangs on her shoulders. With her wrists stretched out on her knees, where is she not pitiful?"

After countless expectations and countless fronts, you came to me lightly in the world of mortals with the whole classical temperament and the memory of Jiangnan.As if you came from the City of Moonlight, your body has countless soft rays of light, flowing freely like poetry; you seem to come from the music workshop of the Han and Tang Dynasties, your ten fingers are slender, just lightly swipe on the red string, and the fingertips will be smooth Thousands of beautiful movements flow out.

You are the most beautiful encounter in my life. I like you to hold my hand gently and walk through the spring together to see the most beautiful scenery in life.On the attic near the water, we watched the mountains in the distance, the sails in the sky, the swallows under the eaves, the clouds passing by, and the sudden wind.At that time, my skirt was blown away by the wind, flying in a beautiful posture.You looked at me blissfully, and said that I was a fairy who fell into the world, graceful, ethereal and moving.

Your timbre is deep and mellow, penetrating the four seasons, with a kind of clearness beyond the dust.

Standing in front of the wind, under your eyes, I am like a flower in the city, shining with glory.The wind blows and diverges, but it is impossible to see through the past years of the long pavilion and ancient road.Memories are like sand, flowing endlessly. Three thousand years of prosperity are like smoke in the blink of an eye, and the world is impermanent.Who is leaning on the east wind slowly, talk about it carefully.Who is burning the incense burner quietly, the lovesickness will be unforgettable.There is a kind of pity, thin and shallow, which lasts for days and years, but it is always continuous.

The smoke from the roof has passed through the full moon, the moss in the ancient alley is full of eye sockets, and the flowers outside the pond are still brewing.Will you readily agree to such a shallow time, and go to a red dust agreement with me, drunk to watch the sun and menstruation, the flowers bloom and fall?

give you a warm
Hongqiao Meishi Xiaoshan Heng, Baita Fanjiang Chunshui Sheng.

The scent of flowers blows away the heat, and the sound of magpies pierces the trees to welcome the new sunshine.

The wine in the workshop is cheap and the poor are still drunk, and the mud in the field is deep and the old are still plowing.

I like to be full of officials in the early stage, and there are no officials to knock firewood for many years.

——Song·Lu You's "Happy Books in the Village"

I have always believed that there are some things in the world that are beyond my sight.

I am a quiet woman, reading quietly, thinking quietly, and living quietly.Occasionally, I pack my bags and set my sights on some unknown distant places.Those winding mountain roads, luxuriant plants, and even the smooth pebbles in the streams all arouse my interest.

Maybe it's because of expectations, every time I travel, I always have some subtle feelings in my heart.When I climbed to the top of the mountain out of breath, I can always see scenery that I have never seen before.There are plants that I can't name, colorful flowers that I don't know, and a sea of ​​​​clouds that I have never seen.

If walking is a state of life, it is the embodiment of spirit and tolerance.Then anticipation is a kind of spiritual yearning, a projection of beauty in consciousness.Just as I keep looking for dreams and walking, even when the mountains and rivers are at the end of the road, there will be unexpected surprises and gains.

Perhaps, some scenery is out of sight.When you look up, you will feel extremely beautiful.So I kept walking all the way, and there were endless scenery to admire along the way.

I like Xueluo's tranquility and moving expression.The snowflakes that were boiling all over the sky came silently.Mountains, rivers, villages, huts, all wrapped in makeup overnight.They came so quietly, the noise and commotion disappeared overnight.

If the heavy snow covered up the past, then what Xueluo revealed was yearning and expectation.Perhaps it was precisely because of this subconscious expectation that Xueluo had theoretical significance.

In my subconscious mind, three to two months after the snow in the north, there will be the breath of spring.After a few spring breezes, there will be tender grass poking out from the soil to look around, and soon after the Qingming Festival, catkins and elm pods will start flying all over the sky.Like snowflakes, the world changed overnight.

Great love is silent, and heavy snow is silent.So, can a single snowflake lead the soul into a wonderful fantasy?Or when the leaves are dyed with fragrance and a moving face when listening to Xuexuan window, it can represent some lost years, rich, beautiful, pure, infiltrated, and then reborn.

Over time, I began to develop the habit of listening to the snow.A book, a cup of tea, a daydream.It was full of spring.

(End of this chapter)