The Path Toward Heaven

Tong Qingqing's seedlings stretched her waist, and the distance between each plant was absolutely the same, perfect.

No matter which angle you look at, the seedlings are straight, and there is no deviation from the shadow of the water surface.

The most amazing farmer in Bishan Village can't do that.

Looking at this picture, Liu Shishi's mouth could not be closed for a long time.

The breeze was light, and the young crops were undulating and beautiful.

The young boy in white standing on the ridge, nodded slightly, somewhat satisfied with his means, turned and walked back, lay down on a bamboo chair, and closed his eyes.

Tamarix looked at Tianguang at the age of ten and said, "My son, do you want to cut wood next?"

Because the boy in white didn't recognize himself as an immortal teacher, the villagers decided to call each other a son after discussing with them.

"That's it," said the boy in white with his eyes closed.

Tamarix didn't understand what he meant when he was ten years old, and asked, "Or cook first?"

少年 The boy in white ignored him.

At the age of ten, Yanliu understood what he meant, but he didn't understand why he changed his mind so quickly.

"I just want to learn and I don't like it."

The boy in white said, "Even if Huafan really makes sense, it's not for me."

Tamariu didn't understand at ten, but then asked, "Why?"

The boy in white said, "Because I'm lazy and I'm not good at it."

Tamarix was agitated at the age of ten, and asked, "What are you good at, boy?"

In the rumors of the small village, the immortal masters in Daqingshan are all gods who can wave thunder and fly swords into the air.

The boy in white said, "Cut off."

There is a weakness in everything in the world.

He is best at finding those weak spots and letting them break.

Such as magic weapons, such as mountains, or whatever.

Tamariu did not expect to hear such an answer when she was ten years old, and she was disappointed. She scratched her head and said, "No wonder you cut vegetables so well."

The wind rises, a leaf floats down, and the stubble is very smooth, just like being cut by a real sword.

I have a cicada.

应该 This should be the first cicada of Xiaoshan Village this year.

The young boy in white opened his eyes and looked at the peaks hidden in the distance in the clouds.

Tamarix picked up the fallen leaf at the age of ten, looked at his side, and asked, "What is your name, son?"

The boy in white was quiet for a while and said, "Jing Jiu."

"Jing Jiu?"

"Water well, ninth."

"Well water does not violate the well of the river, isn't it easy to do what you want?"

"Have you read a book?"

"There was a gentleman in the village who left last year. I heard that I wanted to go to the county to take a child test."

"I read it too."

"Ok?"

"Ask me if you don't understand."

"Thank you son."

"Ok."

Tamarix looked at the boy in white at the age of ten. He had looked at this face for nine days, but he felt a little dazzling with resistance, and rubbed his eyes subconsciously.

"Are you ... in a bad mood?"

The young boy in white looked at the peaks in the fog in the distance for a long time and suddenly said, "It's hard not to bother to do the same thing constantly."

Tamarix thought about it when he was ten years old and said, "If ... that thing is eating meat."

Uh ...

Uh ...

One year passed quickly, and deep spring came again.

To the white-clad boy who claimed to be Jingu Jiu, the villagers were divided into two factions, one insisted that he was the immortal master from Daqingshan, and the other thought that he was indeed not an immortal master, but that he should be from Fucheng, or even the capital The sorrow of the noble son of the song, but one point of the two factions are exactly the same, that is, they have never seen such a lazy person.

In this year, the villagers like to hang out near Liu's home-no matter what their identity is, they always like to see him. But whenever people go, they will see Jing Jiu sleeping. If there is sun, he will sleep on a bamboo chair in the yard. If the weather is overcast, he will sleep on a bed in the house. If the weather is too hot, He would move the bamboo chair to sleep under the tree by the pond. If snow fell, he would move back again, but he would open the window.

After the first nine days, no one saw Jing Jiu had done even the simplest household chores, making beds, dressing and eating. Now all are served by Liu ten years old, even the bamboo he sleeps on. The chair was also moved by Liu at the age of ten.

However, the villagers still respected Jingjiu from the bottom of his heart, because when the children in the village read books, he occasionally pointed out a few words. According to the children, the master's knowledge is more profound than that of the previous gentleman. More than a hundred times.

The most important thing is that Jing Jiu was very rich and willing to spend money, although at the beginning, the villagers did not dare to ask for his money. The ancestral hall and fairy temple repairs in the village are all used for his silver. Now even the new road from the mountain village to the county seat has been repaired more than half. How can the villagers be grateful and disrespectful?

"Son, be careful when you rest, don't fall into the pond again."

Tamarix was ten years old carrying a branch picked up from the mountain, looking at Jing Jiu lying on a bamboo chair, and was a little worried.

This kind of thing happened once, and he was taught hard by his father, saying that he didn't serve the fairy teacher well.

Li Jingjiu lay on the bamboo chair with a hum, and did not know whether to respond to his words, or why it was too comfortable to rest in the shade of the tree.

I was the latter. His slender fingers were tapping on the bamboo chair, the rhythm was very random, there was no regularity, and it gave people a lazy feeling.

Tamarix hesitated for ten years and lowered the branches on his back.

He sat down against the big tree, holding his knees, and staring at the bamboo chair, he didn't dare to relax for a moment.

He is now eleven years old, but he is still ten years old. Jingjiu doesn't seem to change his name for him. When he wants to come, 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 his son, he must do it.

And the sound of Jing Jiugong knocking on the chair is very interesting. He doesn't know how to describe it in words, but just feels more and more quiet.

The wind of Laoshan gently bounced off the water surface, the sun gradually faded, and the night was getting stronger and stronger.

"The last two breaths are early."

At the age of ten, Tamarix was surprised, then sober, and said, "I see."

Kusui Jiu opened his eyes and looked at the pond.

The night breeze disappeared and the water surface was calm, like a mirror.

I looked at the face on the water, and he didn't speak for a long time.

This face is beautiful.

This face is perfect.

If you say that the eyebrows are picturesque, the artist must be the best one in thousands of years.

Even he has never seen such a good-looking face in countless practice circles of handsome men and beautiful women.

Xingguang fell on this face, on the water, the light moved slightly, making this face more dreamlike.

This is not the first time he has seen his face.

When I saw this face by the pond, he realized why the villagers had that reaction when they first arrived in the mountain village, and then they firmly believed that he was an immortal teacher.

He can have such a face, no one will be dissatisfied, even if he is Jing Jiu.

He just thinks there is something strange.

He looked at himself on the water, and he raised his hand and touched his ear.

That's a pair of seductive ears. Looking round, the funny thing is that it is not ugly to wear this face, but it is a bit cute.

He understands why this is, but he's still not used to it.

The night breeze rose again, and scattered the perfect face on the water, and also scattered his thoughts.

Everything is like a dream bubble, as if Lian Shimei from Shuiyueyu said.

He Jingjiu lay back on the bamboo chair and wanted to drink water, but found that the kettle was in front of the chair and needed to sit up again, so he glanced at Liu ten years old.

Liu squatted at the bottom of the tree when she was ten years old and was playing with the grass roots to tease the green worms. She felt the eyes falling on her body, raised her head to know what happened, sighed, got up and walked to the bamboo chair, lifted the kettle, and handed it to the well Before nine.

Sakurai drank the bowl of water and closed his eyes again.

Tamarix did not leave when he was ten years old, squatted down beside a bamboo chair, supported his jaw with his hands, and looked at Jing Jiu's face in a daze. Why was he so beautiful?

He sees too much, so unlike other villagers, he knows that this face has actually changed in this year, not eyebrows, but ... temperament?

The son-in-law was not staying like he was at first, his eyes were more agile, and he was a lot more angry. In fact, his words were much more than before.

Kusui Jiu closed his eyes and opened his eyes after three breaths.

Tamarix was a little surprised at the age of ten. For a year, whether the son was asleep or a little rest or a fake slap, he would never open his eyes so quickly.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm deducing the next three years."

Tamarix scratched his head at the age of ten, thinking that what do you do when you sleep every day?

Kusui Jiu seemed to know what he was thinking, saying, "I'm deducing the next three thousand years."

Tamarix opened her eyes at ten and said, "Three thousand years?"

Jing Jiu asked: "If you think hard and exhaust your mind, you have written an excellent article for countless hours, and feel that you can never write such a good article in this life, but you accidentally let the paper fall into the stove , Burned to ashes, what do you think? "

Tadowana reacted when she was ten years old, touching her chest with her right hand and saying, "Don't think about it, I feel bad when you think about it."

"It's not pain, it's pain." Jing Jiu was quiet for a while and said, "It's painful."

The kind of pain is not understood by those who are not witnesses.

I don't want to suffer.

However, what can be done besides rewriting that article again?

Tamarix sympathized at the age of ten: "That person can only be rewritten."

Kusui Jiu said: "Yes, what else besides rewriting?"

At the age of ten, Tamariu thought about something and said, "But what about the wonderful words and original allusions in the original article?"

"It's not important if you don't remember, how can those allusions of UU reading www.uukanshu.com be really exciting?"

Jiu Jingjing looked to the peaks in the night mist and said, "Write again, it must be a better article."

Tamariu thought about it at the age of ten and wondered if there was any reason for it. Thinking of the previous conversation, he asked inquisitively: "What have you done in the show? The rain will be like the next three years?"

Kusui Jiu's sight fell in a wood not far away, and said, "I can only figure out the time is up."

I'm just tonight.

The night wind rose slightly, the plain shirt fluttered, and a quite middle-aged practitioner fell on the ground with a long sword behind him.

Tamarix was startled at ten and hid behind a bamboo chair.

的 The sight of the middle-aged practitioner fell on Jing Jiu, and his eyebrows were slightly raised, which seemed a little unexpected.

Uh ...

Uh ...

(It won't be so early, but the rewriting of the article is indeed a very important part of the first half of this story. For our authors, this is a pain in the skin, because the computer crashes, because of a power failure, because of a cat, because of a wife, Because of various reasons that are even so bizarre that they are laughed at by readers, we have indeed lost a lot of manuscripts. I believe that most authors have this experience. That is the most painful time for us, the degree of pain and the number of lost document words. It is directly proportional to the geometric progression. At this time, there is no other way than to comfort each other. In recent years, my friends and I have encountered this situation, using the words in the article to comfort themselves and encourage cheer. It ’s our sincerity-if you lose it, you ca n’t remember the plot, and that plot is not qualified to stay in our novel. What can be remembered is good. Rewriting will inevitably lead to better articles. This is the truth, just ... I wish the authors of the world do not need to experience such a thing, Moda.)