Chapter 81 end

Spring goes and autumn comes, and autumn goes and flowers bloom. People are gone, but falling flowers are always there. I don’t know when, a woman selling tea came to the mountainside of Kunlun Mountain. The woman built several tea sheds on a stone beam on the mountain, and made very fragrant tea, so that the tired travelers in the mountains could have a rest. . The appearance of the tea seller is quite gentle and beautiful, but there is a bit of heroism between her eyebrows and eyes. The woman's palm is missing half, but she is not inferior to the man in her work. When the woman is not selling tea, she often looks at the Kunlun back mountain in the distance, staring blankly, sometimes shed tears, and asked her why, she just said that there, in a distant place, one day, there will be I will come back to the world again, come and drink her nice bowl of tea.

On a certain green March spring, a mysterious man came up Kunlun Mountain. Among the emerald greens all over the mountains, the spring breeze blows, blowing the long grass on the hillside, and also blowing the gurgling streams in the mountains. In this man's memory, the fragrance of flowers and herbs has never been so fragrant, and the expectation of meeting someone has never been so urgent. Not long ago, the man just woke up from a dark memory buried deep underground. In his life, for some reason, he was closely related to such an underground world, and this time, the relative who suffered with him, In order for him to see the light of day again and reappear in the world, he had already sacrificed himself, and fell into a deep eternal sleep again.

"Your life is short, but mine is long," the man said tolerantly: "Besides, I think somewhere in the world, there is another person waiting for you." In front of Kunlun Mountain, the coarse cloth on the tea shed kept swaying with the spring breeze. At this time, the woman selling tea was in the steamy clouds and mist. Among the clouds and mists in the mountains, it seemed that he saw the familiar figure that he had always dreamed of, and that he would never forget for a day. As if in a spring dream that was about to drift away and disappear, the tea seller slowly and carefully walked out of the water vapor and clouds, but her face was already covered with disappointing tears.

In the quiet mountain, light and ethereal haze spewed out from the valleys and cliffs silently. There were no guests in the quiet tea shed, Deng Chanyu was just holding the teapot in a daze, seeing Wu Huan standing in front of her, smiling softly and saying a word. A sentence that seems to echo in the mountains for thousands of years. "The proprietress who sells tea," Wu Huan's smile was soft and warm like a spring breeze. "Do you want a cup of hot tea for passing guests?" The draft was completed in the early morning of September 30, 1988, after the earthquake. Please read on.