In the setting sun, Pullman stood quietly on the hill, with dried blood still visible on his armor. A large sword was inserted beside him. There were many gaps in the blade, and the hilt was wrapped in cloth strips. It was badly worn, and many of it had been dyed dark red.
In the wilderness near the setting sun, scattered weapons, broken gun barrels, burning flags, and twisted corpses formed a bleak picture.
The insurgents wearing white turbans searched one by one on the battlefield. If they found someone alive, they quickly lifted them up on stretchers and sent them to the medical point in the rear. A life is precious.
"Brother Pullman, have we won?" a young boy lying on a stretcher asked weakly, his upper body was covered with bandages, and one arm was shrugged.
"Yes, we won." Pullman held his other intact hand and sighed in his words.
"Okay... It's good." The young man looked at the blue-purple sky with his eyes and muttered to himself.
"We are one step closer to our dream."
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Continental South, Vilga Business Alliance, Hopelander.
After Loren Hill finished dealing with the Chamber of Commerce, he had a rare moment of rest recently.
At this time, she was sitting alone in a small yard behind the mansion. The yard was not big, with a pear tree in the middle.
The small yard was very quiet, and the clear chirping of birds could be heard. Occasionally, a few flew down from the eaves and landed on the grass. They walked back and forth, pecking at them, and then flying away.
The girl was wearing a white dress, sitting on a wooden chair with a backrest, just under the eaves in the courtyard, next to several standing stone pillars, and some green moss spread from the grass in the courtyard to the gaps between the steps.
At this moment, she was holding a small bamboo basket in her arms, and inside it was a small half basket of green pea pods. The fingernails pressed the corners of the pods, pinched and pulled apart a green fiber, and a few crystal clear and moist beans emerged from the pods, followed by the faint fragrance of plants.
Gently poking around with your fingers, a few green peas rolled into the white palm, the peas were placed in the porcelain bowl on the right, and the torn pods were placed in another bamboo basket on the ground on the left.
Roland Hill was quietly peeling the bean pods, with a few strands of golden hair scattered on his chest. Occasionally, the wind blew over, the birds chirped and flew away in the wind, and the shadows of the pear branches and leaves swayed gently in the courtyard.
These days, it's been a maid serving her life, which was a little new at first, but after a long time, she wanted to do something by herself.
While sitting on the wooden chair and peeling the pods, Loren Hill slowly recalled some past events. When she was a child, she would go to her grandma's house to play every winter and summer vacation. Unlike her own home in the depressing city, her grandma and grandpa lived there. in the mountains.
Whenever it rains, she can clearly hear the sound of raindrops hitting the blue tiles. She likes to live at her grandmother's house very much. Because no one here will urge her to study, and no one will stare at her fiercely every day. Grandma and grandpa liked her very much and didn't give her any restraints. She could do what she wanted.
Whether reading novels under the trees on the hillside, fishing in the river, roasting corn on the drying field, squatting in the field to dig peanuts, or hiding in the house to play games for a day. Grandma and grandpa would not talk about her, as long as she eats on time.
On summer nights, she would lie on a bamboo reclining chair and watch the stars and the moon in the sky, and her grandmother would tell some magical stories, such as savages eating children in the mountains and so on.
By the way, she has also seen fireflies. When she was 6 years old, fireflies were flying all over the mountains, twinkling. She once wanted to learn from the ancients to catch a few fireflies and put them in a transparent plastic bag, and then use it to read books at night.
It's a pity that the stories are all deceptive. The light of fireflies is too weak to see at all, unless hundreds of them gather together.
With the gradual increase of age and ignorance, there are fewer and fewer fireflies in the mountains, and I have never seen them again after the age of 10.
As the days went on, she liked to make her own food again.
At first it was just roasted sweet potatoes, roasted peanuts, roasted corn, roasted potatoes, etc.
Later, I learned to use the crucian carp caught in the pond to cook soup. At that time, she was not very good at cutting vegetables. My grandmother was afraid that she would cut it with her hands, so she would not let her touch the knife, so the fish was handled by my grandfather first, and she was right beside her. Looking at it, there was a cat from her hometown who was squatting with her.
Don't let it cut and fry, so let's cook something. Cooking corn is really delicious, and potatoes are also good. Occasionally, cooking beans makes her feel that this is also very good.
As the peas were slowly peeled, the thoughts slowly retracted.
The originally empty porcelain bowl slowly accumulated from the first few peas, gradually increasing little by little, and finally filled the white porcelain bowl. The girl looked at it, and a faint sense of satisfaction came to her heart.
She held the white porcelain bowl full of peas in her hands and went to the small kitchen next to her. This was a small room she had Chelsea tidied up exclusively, and only she would cook some food here.
The green beans are poured into a pottery pot, and then a spoonful of clear water is scooped out of the water tank, poured into it, rubbed gently, and then swirled with fingers in the pottery pot, creating a small vortex. At this time, the fingers stopped, and then they spun in the opposite direction mischievously, setting off bursts of clear waves.
After going back and forth for a few times, tilt the pot and hold the round beans inside with one hand like a small dam, and slowly let the water drain out.
With the rubbing of the flint, a few dry dry grasses were lit, a deep earthen pot was put on, clear water was poured, then the peeled beans, the pot was covered, and a few firewood was added again, the flame Slowly rising from the dead branches, licking the bottom of the pot.
Loren Hill brought a chair and sat quietly beside the fireplace. The sound of crackling firewood came, and the orange flames reflected in her pupils, and she was a little stunned.
"Fairy Wood"
When people are alone, they will think and think about many things, the present, the past, and the future.
It's been a long time since she came to this world. Without her past relatives, friends and familiar faces, she is no longer bound by any constraints, and what kind of road will she embark on in the future.
It is not the same as the history recorded in later generations and the inferences of experts, the great sage who sent ten stars and saved the world from the brink of shattering ten times - Roland Hill, in the third era, in 1684, the iron spear stepped on the ground. Years ago, she didn't have any ambitions yet. At this time, she just wanted to live a quiet and simple life, nothing more than an ordinary life.