Chapter 17 People·Flowers and Black Clay Pots

1 A bouquet of apricot blossoms from a disused garden (interspersed with scattered white Called Ye Lixiang) hesitated for a long time in his wife's grip: There was no place to stand on the windowsill. 2 Wouldn't it be nice to let them grow on their own branches? Why make them suffer? Why make them desperate, lonely, hungry and thirsty? Wife said: Don't worry about it. 3 On the window sill, the clay pot was covered by a bouquet of flowers into the unfathomable mouth. I can no longer see the pool of cold water at the bottom of the abyss... I can't hear the sound of oars at the bottom of the abyss...

I can't smell the fragrance of herbs rising from the bottom of the abyss from Shennong's family... Things are always unexpected. Always be jealous? ... 1985