Xia Yuanqiu led Zhu Yan directly to carry his grandfather into his room. He skillfully took out the needle bag and performed acupuncture on his grandfather. When she saw the acupuncture technique, Aunt Zhuang almost recognized Xia Yuanqiu as Xiao Yuan. One person could do it To make up a lie, you can place a story you heard from another person on your own head and force it to be your own story. However, this ancestral skill needs to be practiced since childhood and is not simple. Imitation can do it.
Since Xiaoyuan's accident, the old man has never taught anyone the Nine Yin and Nine Yang acupuncture techniques. It can be said that if the old man leaves this world, no one will know this magical acupuncture technique.
"Are you really Xiao Yuan? Are you really Xiao Yuan?" Aunt Zhuang's hands trembled slightly, and tears fell involuntarily from her eyes. Xiao Yuan was the child she raised with her own hands, and her feelings for Xiao Yuan were no less than those of the old man.
Xia Yuanqiu pulled out the needle, turned around, looked at Aunt Zhuang in front of her, and said word by word: "There is yin in yin, and there is yang in yang. From Pingdan to noon, the yang of the sky is the yang of yang, and from noon to dusk , the yang of the sky is the yin within the yang. When the rooster crows at night, the yin of the sky is the yin of the yin - "
After reading this, Aunt Zhuang no longer had any doubts about her identity. These were the oral formulas she had been memorizing since she was a child. This was one of the formulas in the Nine Yin and Nine Yang Acupuncture Techniques. Although she could not understand it, , but she knew that this was Xiao Yuan, and only Xiao Yuan would recite this formula in front of her.
Aunt Zhuang cried and hugged Xia Yuanqiu, with tears rolling down her face. She cried and laughed at the same time, as if she was crazy: "Since you're not dead, why don't you go home? Do you know how we have endured these past three years?" Did you come here?"
Xia Yuanqiu just shed tears and couldn't say a word. He buried his face in Aunt Zhuang's chest, inhaling the familiar smell deeply, and wet his thin clothes with tears.
"Ohara? Where are you, Ohara? Ohara - come back quickly. Grandpa can't live without you. He can't live without you - Ohara, my Ohara -"
The old man was sleeping, with tears falling from the corners of his eyes, his brows furrowed, and he kept mumbling in his sleep.
She rushed to her grandfather's bed, reached out and grabbed his hand: "Grandpa, I'm back, Xiao Yuan is back, grandpa, wake up, open your eyes and look at me, I'm back!"
Perhaps after hearing Xia Yuanqiu's response, the sleeping master fell into a deep sleep again and stopped talking in his sleep.
Xia Yuanqiu turned to Aunt Zhuang and said, "Does grandpa often do this?"
Aunt Zhuang wiped her tears and nodded: "Since your accident three years ago, he hasn't had a good night's sleep. His hair turned completely white almost overnight. When he falls asleep, he talks in his sleep and calls your name. Sometimes it's you. My father's name, when he is awake, he stares at the photos of you and your daughter in a daze, and occasionally talks to each other. It's so pitiful -" Aunt Zhuang said, tears flowing down again involuntarily.
An old man, an eighty-year-old man, first lost his son, and then experienced his only granddaughter leaving him. How could he bear the loss of his white-haired man to his black-haired man twice
Xia Yuanqiu lay on the bedside, his shoulders hunched, and a sob came from his throat. He tried his best to hold back, but he couldn't help it.
The old man slept peacefully. He didn't wake up until nightfall. When he went downstairs, he saw Aunt Zhuang clearing the dishes. There were three pairs of dishes on the table. He asked in confusion: "Who is here? ?”
Aunt Zhuang smiled and said: "Old man, you have to help me, I have great news for you!"