Opposite them, Hua Rong put the collected red leaves into a large rough porcelain vase with a smile on her face. The room was clean, the table was spotless, there was a handful of water, a handful of red leaves, some found leaves and special-shaped weeds. , decorated like a pot of delicious flower arrangements, making this small room glowing, full of vitality, and filled with a sense of tranquility and leisure in a troubled world.
King Qin was tired from wrestling with his two children, and his broken gong voice couldn't help but want to hum. Seeing that his two sons were facing a powerful enemy, he laughed and said, "I can't sing well, so I can ask my mother to sing, okay?"
"Okay, mom sings well. Let's listen to mom sing."
Hua Rong turned around with a smile. There was an old guqin on the table, which belonged to an old scholar. The old scholar still maintained the elegance of a scholar of his dynasty. Even in troubled times, he would carry this guqin with him day and night, and occasionally , also tried to play for the children. But how could these naughty boys be willing to listen to what he was babbling and singing? He often lamented that he was playing the piano to an ox, so after Hua Rong settled in, he heard that Hua Rong could play the piano, so he simply gave the piano to Hua Rong.
The simple table and rough stools exude a sense of elegance. The person playing the piano has bright fingers, which are inversely proportional to her hair. They are still green, like the tips of an onion, slowly scratching from the strings. Passed by, the sound dropped drop by drop, like the first rain in early summer, moist and cool:
As the great river goes eastward, all its waves are washed away, and there are all the famous figures of the ages. To the west of the fortress, there is the human road, the Red Cliff of Zhou Lang of the Three Kingdoms. The rocks are pierced through the sky, the waves are crashing on the shore, and thousands of piles of snow are rolled up. The country is picturesque, and there are many heroes at that time.
I think back to Gong Jin's time, when Xiao Qiao got married for the first time, with a majestic appearance. She wore a feather fan and silk scarf, and while chatting and laughing, her oars and oars disappeared into ashes. My motherland was wandering around, and I was so sentimental that I was so sentimental that I was born early. Life is like a dream, and a bottle of wine returns the moon to the river.
This piece of music was originally meant to be played by a man from Guandong, forging by the iron stove. It is majestic, majestic, deep and graceful... However, under the elegance of the guqin, it has a different flavor.
Lu Wenlong listened quietly, his youthful feelings softened for a moment, as if he was in a very strange environment, and the natural appreciation in his genes was awakened. He liked this music far more than the folk songs on the grassland. He asked his mother : "Who is Zhou Lang?"
"Zhou Lang? His name is Zhou Yu. He is as famous as Zhuge Liang. He is a super famous hero with outstanding resourcefulness."
"They are so powerful, why did the Song Dynasty still lose the battle?"
Just this question makes Hua Rong sigh. Yes, Zhuge Liang and Zhou Gongjin were romantic for a while; Tang Taizong and Song Taizu were dominant for a lifetime. It's a pity that they were not born in the same era. They have already left Hexi. There are no heroes in the world. , only Qin Hui and Zhao Deji, so they could only lose power and humiliate the country. A large civilized country with a population of nearly 100 million surrendered to a small clan that started with 13 cavalrymen.
Lu Wenlong's confusion was submerged in her low singing, he seemed to understand, but he didn't understand. Everything about the Song Dynasty was curious, fresh, and incredible to him.
King Qin closed his eyes and listened quietly. This was a completely unfamiliar feeling to him, but he was naturally adaptable to it, as if he should have been like this in his previous life. The little tiger's head was leaning on his arms, and his braid was on his chin, with his hands Holding her cheek, she listened so carefully. Children also have the ability to appreciate music. Every time their mother sings, he becomes quiet and forgets even his naughty ways.
When the song ended, she stopped, her fingers still pressed on the strings, and the aftertaste lingered, filling the room with the fragrance of flowers.
King Qin opened his eyes and met her gaze, which was gentle, calm, and full of emotion. She was wearing a headscarf, which tightly covered her white hair, revealing only a clean face and delicate eyebrows. , as if the years have left no trace. In the face of joy, what do the years really mean? He stared at her, and whenever he did this, he would stare at her deeply, and that feeling of heartbeat would always be a secret. From beginning to end, she was so beautiful and fresh. Just like the summer when she was seventeen.
As long as she is there, no matter where you are, it feels like home and so beautiful.
It turns out that joy is the greatest pleasure in the world.
At night, a lone lamp.
Little Hutou had already fallen asleep. Lu Wenlong was sitting at the desk with a piece of paper spread out on it. On the paper was his own handwriting, which was a song "Man Jiang Hong". It was a children's song hummed by Little Hutou, and it was also sung by his mother. He thought it was very good, so he wrote it down on paper. At this time, he realized that it was written by his father-in-law himself.
King Qin told them many stories about his father-in-law Yue. His father-in-law Lu Deng and father-in-law Yue Pengju were both first-class heroes. When he was in the Kingdom of Jin, he was fascinated by them; now I feel even more proud when I return to my motherland.
He pestered King Qin to tell many past events about Lu Deng, but King Qin didn't know much about Lu Deng and was always vague about it. Hua Rong could tell a little more, but it all came from the story of Lu Deng and his wife's death. For them, During his lifetime, Hua Rong knew nothing about it. Because of the war, Chu'an Prefecture had long been in ruins. Coupled with years of severe drought, it was even more empty.
Although Lu Wenlong was regretful, he could not help it. In his own memory, there was a blank about his biological father and mother, and he could not recall them at all. But because of this, he could not arouse too sad feelings, so the young boy could still maintain a happy mood. With Qin When the big king plays tricks with the little tiger head, he is always happy and laughs more and more.
But he felt weird. It turned out that Father Yue was Xiao Hutou's biological father; Lu Denn was his biological father; neither of them were the sons of King Qin. But, he, the big bad guy, looked so much like his father. No, he was The real father. Although he still called King Qin the "big bad guy". No one told him to change his words, but he truly respected him as "father" in his heart. As early as when he saw him charging towards him with a deer knife to protect himself and When he was his mother, he admitted it in his heart.
But then he thought of the study in Yanjing, the study in Shangjing, his little prince uniform, the exquisite crown, those days full of glory and love. He was once the happiest and most favored child in the Kingdom of Jin— Because his father is the fourth prince.
I picked up the pen to write and paint. Everything I first knew about the Song Dynasty was taught by my father, the fourth prince. He spared no effort to dote on him and gave the greatest degree of material gifts, never being stingy. Even every residence he owned Even the fourth prince's most favored concubine cannot compare to his independent and luxurious courtyard.
The people closest to me turned out to be enemies.
He couldn't contain the misery in his heart. He wanted to cry but he didn't dare and couldn't cry. Because, he found that he was still thinking about that person every day - thinking about the big enemy who killed his father, his mother, and ransacked his family and exterminated his family. Love him, I have always loved him so much!
What about him? Will he still think of himself
Before the breakup between father and son, Lu Wenlong knew that he had another son, and his wife gave birth to another son. If someone succeeded him to the throne, maybe he would never miss him again.
He was frightened by this and trembled slightly, but still couldn't cry out. His heart was filled with misery. No, the fourth prince-father, how could he forget himself
It was as if he had truly forgotten everything.
Under such alternating chaotic thoughts, he could not sleep or meditate. He could only write, holding a brush and writing "Man Jiang Hong" one stroke at a time on the rice paper spread out.
The door was pushed open, and the sound of gentle footsteps was Hua Rong. She always came in every night to take a look and cover her sons with quilts to prevent them from catching cold.
She came in quietly, but saw that Lu Wenlong had not fallen asleep so late at night. She walked over and saw the thick stack of paper spread out, and each one was "Man Jiang Hong". Although the handwriting was immature, it already had the look of a teenager. Human strength and bravery, but the handwriting changes from clear at first to messy later, which shows how haggard and struggling the person who writes is.
In front of my eyes, time and space seemed to be changing. On the beach, in the woods, on the stone slabs, the simple boy was writing on the ground with sand, stroke by stroke, so seriously:
"Sister, is this my name? Can you write my name?"
"Sister, I can also write..."
"Sister, do you like this bright red shell?"
"Sister, don't be afraid, I will take you away and I will definitely help you escape..."
…
Her eyes were slightly moist, and she took out something from her arms, which was stored in a small brocade bag and folded neatly.
Spread out in front of Lu Wenlong was a piece of yellowed paper, stained with blood, but the pine ink was so clear that the handwriting on it could be seen through. Every word was so powerful, full of an angry and heroic spirit.
That is Yue Pengju's authentic handwriting, which he wrote back then.
Lu Wenlong stared closely at the handwriting with flying dragons and phoenixes, as if every word was alive, and every word stood up like a sword, proud of the world, telling the story of a heroic time that has passed away and cannot be traced back.
His blood boiled because of it, and he longed for it endlessly. His mother, the King of Qin, told so many stories, but none of them were shocked by seeing this handwriting. Only a hero can write such vital words and powerful words. Only heroes can write such powerful words. Only heroes can resurrect the lost years forever between the lines.
This is Yue Pengju! The hero is here, so far away, yet so close. Just like what I saw when I was a child, he was sitting under a big tree making himself double spears, long wooden spears, with such a gentle smile and such a heroic appearance.
Because of this painting, he became close to a person and truly worshiped him.
He was excited and proud: "Mom, this belongs to Father Yue? Can you give it to me?"
She smiled. This was the first time her son asked her for a gift. Could she not give it to him? For many years, this word has been following her closely, firmly hidden in her chest, even in the battle of Lin'an, even in the grassland terror, even in the assassination of Qin Hui, even in being forced into a desperate situation by Jin Wushu... every time , every time when one's misfortune turns into good fortune, or encounters disaster, who says it is not protected by Pengju's spirit in heaven
This is her talisman, and she will never give up until she dies or breathes her last breath.
However, it cannot be buried, not everything about him can be buried.
Originally, he wanted to leave it to Xiao Hutou when he grew old. However, Wenlong asked, he was also Pengju's son, wasn't he? She thought that Pengju would regard many children who were innocently orphaned in the war as sons.
She also kept all Pengju's handwritings in a fine brocade box and placed it on Luoxia Island. It was given to Little Hutou at that time and asked King Qin to keep it. King Qin never opened the box to look at it. It was nothing, but it was entrusted by others, so it has been carefully kept, waiting for the day when the little tiger head grows up, and he can handle it by himself.
She solemnly picked up the gift and handed it to Lu Wenlong with both hands: "Son, this is the relic of Father Yue. You must preserve it carefully."