The green seedlings stretch out their waists, and the distance between each plant is absolutely the same, which is perfect.
No matter from which angle you look at it, the seedlings are in a straight line, and even the shadow on the water surface has no deviation.
Even the most remarkable farmer in the mountain village can't achieve this level.
Looking at this scene, Liu Shisui couldn't close his mouth for a long time.
The breeze is blowing, and the green shoots are undulating, which is very beautiful.
The white-clothed boy stood on the ridge, nodded slightly, a little satisfied with his means, turned around and walked back, lay down on the bamboo chair, and closed his eyes.
Liu Shisui glanced at Tianguang and said, "My lord, do you want to chop firewood next?"
Because the white-clothed boy refused to admit that he was an immortal master, the villagers decided to call him son after some discussion.
"That's it." The boy in white said with his eyes closed.
Liu Shisui didn't understand what he meant, and asked, "Or cook first?"
The boy in white ignored him.
Only then did Liu Shisui understand what he meant, but he didn't understand why he changed his mind so quickly.
"I just want to learn, I don't like it."
The boy in white said, "Even if Hua Fan really makes sense, it's not suitable for me."
Liu Shisui didn't understand, so he just followed his words and asked, "Why?"
The boy in white said, "Because I'm lazy and not good at it."
Liu Shisui was a little excited and asked, "What are you good at, young master?"
According to the rumors in Xiaoshan Village, the immortal masters in Daqing Mountain are all gods and men who can wave thunder and fly swords into the sky.
The boy in white said, "Cut it off."
Everything in this world has weaknesses.
What he's good at is finding those weak spots and breaking them apart.
Such as magic weapons, such as mountain peaks, or something else.
Liu Shisui didn't expect to hear such an answer, so he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. He scratched his head and said, "No wonder you cut vegetables so well."
There was a wind, and a leaf floated down, and the stubble was very smooth, as if it had been cut off by a real sword.
There are cicadas singing.
This should be the first sound of cicadas in the small mountain village this year.
The boy in white opened his eyes and looked towards the distant peaks hidden in the clouds.
Liu Shisui picked up the fallen leaf, looked at his side face, and asked, "My lord, what's your name?"
The boy in white was quiet for a while, then said, "Jing Jiu."
"Jing Jiu?"
"Water well, number nine."
"A well whose water doesn't interfere with the river's water, isn't it better to be happy?"
"Read a book?"
"There used to be a gentleman in the village who left last year. I heard that he wanted to go to the county to take the entrance examination for children."
"I read it too."
"Um?"
"If you don't understand, just ask me."
"Thank you son."
"Um."
Liu Shisui looked at the boy in white. He had been looking at this face for nine days. With resistance, he still felt a little dazzling, so he subconsciously rubbed his eyes.
"Are you... in a bad mood?"
The boy in white looked at the mountains in the distance in the fog and was silent for a long time, then suddenly said: "It's hard not to be annoyed by doing the same thing over and over again."
Liu Shisui thought for a while and said, "If... that matter is eating meat."
…
…
One year passed quickly, and late spring came again.
Regarding the boy in white who called himself Jing Jiu, the villagers were divided into two factions. One faction insisted that he was an immortal master from Daqingshan, while the other believed that he was indeed not an immortal master, but that he should be from Fucheng, or even from the capital city. The troubled noble son of Song, but the two factions agree on one point, that is, they have never seen such a lazy person.
During this year, the villagers liked to hang out around Liu's house - no matter what Jing Jiu's identity was, they always liked to see him. But no matter when people go, they will see Jing Jiu sleeping. If there is sunshine, he will sleep on the bamboo chair in the yard; if the weather is cloudy, he will sleep on the bed in the house; if the weather is too hot , he would move the bamboo chair to sleep under the tree by the pond, and if it snowed, he would move it back again, but he had to open the window.
After the first nine days, no one saw Jing Jiu doing even the simplest housework. Now Liu Shisui took care of making the bed, making the quilt, dressing and eating. The chairs were also moved around by Liu Shisui.
However, the villagers still respect Jing Jiu from the bottom of their hearts, because when the children in the village are studying, he will occasionally point out a few words. According to the children, Mr. Xianshi is three times more knowledgeable than the previous gentleman. More than a hundred times.
The most important thing is that Jing Jiu is very rich, and he is very willing to spend money, although at the beginning, the villagers didn't dare to ask for his money. All the ancestral halls and fairy temples in the village were repaired with his money. Now even the new road from the mountain village to the county town has been repaired more than half. How can the villagers not be grateful or respectful to him
"Young master, be careful when you rest, and be careful not to fall into the pond again."
Liu Shisui looked at Jing Jiu who was lying on the bamboo chair with the branches picked up from the mountain on his back, feeling a little worried.
Such a thing happened once, and he was severely taught by his father, saying that he did not serve the immortal master well.
Jing Jiu lay on the bamboo chair and hummed, not sure if it was in response to his words, or because it was too comfortable to rest under the shade of a tree.
It should be the latter, his slender fingers tapped on the bamboo chair, the rhythm was very random, without any rules, giving people a lazy feeling.
Liu Shisui hesitated for a while, then put down the branch on his back.
He sat down against the big tree, hugging his knees, staring at the bamboo chair, not daring to relax for a moment.
He is now eleven years old, but his name is still ten years old. Jing Jiu doesn't seem to have any intention of changing his name. In his mind, it should be because the son is too lazy.
No matter what his name is, he is still so honest and trustworthy. Since he promised his father to take good care of the son, he must do it.
Moreover, Mr. Jing Jiu's sound of knocking on the chair was very interesting. He didn't know how to describe it in words, but he felt that his heart was becoming more and more peaceful.
The mountain breeze gently brushed the water, the sun gradually faded, and the night became darker and darker.
"The last two times, the exhalation was early."
Liu Shisui was slightly startled when he heard the words, then regained consciousness and said, "Got it."
Jing Jiu opened his eyes and looked towards the pond.
The night wind disappeared without a trace, and the water surface was as calm as a mirror.
Looking at the face on the water, he didn't speak for a long time.
This face is beautiful.
This face is perfect.
If the eyebrows and eyes are picturesque, the painter must be the best one in thousands of years.
Even he has never seen such a good-looking face in the world of practice where there are countless handsome men and beautiful women.
The starlight fell on this face, fell on the water surface, and the light moved slightly, making this face more dreamlike.
It wasn't the first time he saw his face.
When he saw this face by the pond, he understood why the villagers had that reaction the day he first arrived in the mountain village, and then they firmly believed that he was an immortal teacher.
To have such a face, no one would be dissatisfied, even if he is Jing Jiu.
He just felt something was a little strange.
Looking at himself on the water, he raised his hand and touched his ears.
Those are a pair of protruding ears, which look round. What's interesting is that it doesn't look ugly with this face, but it adds a bit of cuteness.
He understood why, but he was still not used to it.
The night wind picked up again, blowing away the perfect face on the water, as well as the thoughts in his heart.
Everything is like a dream, as if Lian Shimei from Shuiyue Nunnery said it.
Jing Jiu lay back on the bamboo chair and wanted to drink water, but found the kettle in front of the chair and needed to sit up again, so he glanced at Liu Shisui.
Liu Shisui was squatting at the bottom of the tree, playing with the caterpillars with grass roots, felt the eyes on his body, raised his head to realize what was going on, sighed, got up, walked to the bamboo chair, picked up the water bottle, and handed it to the well In front of nine.
Jing Jiu drank a bowl of water and closed his eyes again.
Liu Shisui did not leave, so he squatted down beside the bamboo chair, propped his chin with his hands, stared at Jing Jiu's face in a daze, thinking how could it be so pretty
He has seen too much, so unlike other villagers, he knows that this face has actually changed in this year, not the eyebrows, but... the temperament
Young master is not as dumb as before, his eyes are more agile, and he is more angry, in fact, he talks a lot more than before.
Jing Jiu closed his eyes, and after three breaths, opened them again.
Liu Shisui was a little surprised. In the past year, no matter whether he was sleeping soundly, taking a nap or taking a nap, he never opened his eyes so quickly.
"What are you doing?"
Jing Jiu looked at the stars in the night sky and said, "I'm deducing the next three years."
Liu Shisui scratched his head, thinking, what are you doing when you sleep every day
Jing Jiu seemed to know what he was thinking, and said, "I'm deducing the next three thousand years."
Liu Shisui opened his eyes wide and said, "Three thousand years?"
Jing Jiu asked: "If you spend countless hours thinking hard, exhausting your mind and writing an excellent article, and feel that you will never write such a good article again in this life, but accidentally let the manuscript fall into the stove , burned to ashes, what do you think?"
Liu Shisui was stunned for a moment before he realized it. He stroked his chest with his right hand and said, "I don't dare to think about it, but it hurts when I think about it."
"It's not pain, it's pain." Jing Jiu was quiet for a while, then said, "It's very painful."
The pain is incomprehensible to those who have not experienced it.
It hurts so much.
However, after learning from the pain, what else can I do besides rewriting that article
Liu Shisui said sympathetically, "That person can only rewrite."
Jing Jiu said, "Yes, what else can I do besides rewriting it?"
Liu Shisui thought of one thing, and said worriedly, "But I can't remember the wonderful words and phrases in the original article, and those exquisite allusions, what should I do?"
"It's not important if you can't remember it. How can those words and allusions be truly wonderful?"
Jing Jiu looked at the peaks in the night mist and said, "Write it again, it will definitely be a better splendid article."
Liu Shisui thought for a while, and didn't know if it made sense. Thinking about the previous conversation, he asked curiously, "My lord, what did you deduce? How will the rain be in the next three years?"
Jing Jiu's eyes fell on a forest not far away, and said, "I only figured out that it's time."
Just tonight.
The night wind blew slightly, and the plain shirt fluttered. A middle-aged practitioner with a sense of refinement fell to the ground, with a long sword behind him.
Liu Shisui was startled and hid behind the bamboo chair.
The middle-aged cultivator's eyes fell on Jing Jiu, and his eyebrows were raised slightly, as if he was a little surprised.
…
…
(I won’t ask so early, but the matter of rewriting the article is indeed a very important thing in the first half of this story. For us authors, this is a very painful thing, because the computer crashed, because of the power outage, because of the cat, because of the wife, We have indeed lost many manuscripts due to various reasons that are even somewhat bizarre and ridiculed by readers. I believe that most authors have this experience. That is the most painful time for us. The degree of pain is related to the number of lost documents. It is directly proportional, or a geometric progression. At this time, there is no other way but to comfort each other. In the past few years, when my friends and I have encountered this kind of situation, we always use Jing Jiu’s words in the article to comfort and encourage ourselves. It’s our sincere words—if you lose the plot, you can’t remember it, and that kind of plot is not eligible to stay in our book. What you can remember is good. Rewriting will definitely lead to better articles. This is To be honest, it’s just... I wish all authors in the world don’t need to go through such a thing, meh.)