Hammer like a song

[The eighteenth day of the twelfth lunar month is extremely cold and waiting for a rest]

On the day when Meijianchi left, the snow kept falling.

The snow in the south, cold, damp, and biting, falls thinly on people, on the ground, on the roof, and wets the cold time.

He had breakfast with his mother, and the food on the table was a bit too rich, and the silence on the table was even more unbearable.He swallowed the last mouthful of food, stopped chopsticks, knelt down facing Mo Xie, bowed, bowed again.

"Mother, let me go. I will surely avenge my father, please rest assured." The voice of the young Qingyue was full of determination.

"Get up, you don't have to do this. I can't stop you from doing what you want, so just go ahead and do it." Mo Xie couldn't bear to look any longer, and waved his hand while covering his face.

Seeing this, Mei Jianchi got up, put on his felt hat, and walked out the door.A thin layer of silver had accumulated in the yard, and he finally counted the grain and charcoal stored at home, packed his bags, took another look at the jujube tree with dead branches, and stepped out of the yard. .

Gan Jiang's sword was tightly hidden in the bag, leaning on the boy's increasingly generous shoulders.He resolutely, like his father, went to Wangcheng.

Under the overly wide animal skin coat, in the slightly slender torso, it seemed that unreasonable hatred and resentment grew automatically, and he had to find the enemy as high as a mountain in the distance and give him a sword to resolve it.

Mo Xie watched her child go away, the back was too familiar, so familiar that it made people powerless.

Later, she heard that the king was assassinated. There were rumors in the streets and alleys that the king's head was chopped off with a sharp sword and the assassin had already executed him.