Chapter 15 waitress

She said that when she was young, she liked to wear white clothes for fear of losing her black hair; now she prefers black for fear of losing her gray hair. Hey, remember to pour out the first bubble quickly to clean up the dust.The second soaking may wish to soak for a longer time before it is sweet.Do you prefer glycol or fragrance?she says. The water is murmuring.The owner of the teahouse has clever ideas, and the pool is completed indoors. A small wooden building is built on the pool, and ivy hangs from the eaves, like a curtain that cannot be rolled up.Tissue paper palace lanterns are hung on the top wall, and a bright moon floats on the surface of the pool.

What is a writer?she asked. Writers are... well, writers are scavengers who dig out life's earwax! I say. Do you write happy stories or sad stories? Ah! Forgive me for my stupidity, but only sad stories. more sad?she says. No, those who write about sadness are happier. This is my blessing. People, seldom see their own blessings!she says. Her plain round face glowed in meditation, and her plump female body was wrapped in a black sweater.It is a little white hair, like awns.She hugged her knees and swayed gently, following the rhythm of the flowing water.The flowers of life fall in response to the sound and give back to the water.She is a waitress.

My luck is that I am tired of looking at the glory and wealth, so come here and learn how to make tea.Not soaked well enough.she says. It can be seen that those hands have been idle for many years, and they are still as fresh as fruit.It is the life of a young lady, and the fine grains are fine, which was originally her salary.and after?On the thousands of acres of fertile land, do you see people dying of hunger on the road?Or the family is withering, and the rich moss is found? neither.she says. Then, it is disgusting to be a golden cicada in silk and satin.What a pity!People will be so sorry, a young lady who doesn't know what to do, is willing to carry a pot to boil water, and said to the guests: The brew is not good enough, please drink slowly.

When I first met her, in the hospital, she was feeding gruel to her friends.Seeing me, I said to the elderly patient: "I won, someone will come to see you today!" in the delicate tone of a lover.She is a simple caregiver. According to the address on her place to pick up a friend's relics.The courtyard is deep and wide, and many birds are singing on the branches, thinking that she has become a maid of a wealthy family again.Suddenly the well-dressed young master came up to her and called her mother.She said quietly: "Go back to the teahouse and find me next time, and go to apply for a job."

I spun and spun out the cocoon in sorrow, weaving happiness; she cut out the brocade garments of joy and distributed them to those who are sad.Prosperity or poverty are like tea for the first time, remember to throw it away.But the strong tea turns weak, drink until the road is broken, and the dream is broken, and the sweetness will naturally return.