Martial Arts: My Proficiency Panel

Chapter 225 Extra Story: Dreaming Back to the Southern Dynasties (2)

The drunken crab you make is different from other places. It is steamed and then drunk. It is said that I am afraid that I will spoil my stomach.

I waited all night, and in the morning of the second day, I ate the drunken crab and goose palm. It still tasted the same, but it was different.

The unrivaled umami taste between the lips and teeth lasts for a long time, and it also has a strong fruity aroma.

The green scallions and the reddish-brown soup base complement each other. When you scoop it out with a spoon, the delicate and soft goose feet are all boneless, which can be eaten directly, which is also a must.

You ask what is different about the drunken crab this time. Is there a fragrance of flowers and fruits, like a girl next door, fresh and elegant, straight to the heart?

I laughed at you for being unserious, but you told me that in the past, I used old wine from Shaoxing, but this time I used fruity spirits brought from the Western Regions, and it was marinated with prunes and fresh fruits. , better flavor.

You said it with joy and a very proud look, which made me go crazy.

Probably all the delicious things have heavy feelings, and maybe it is not the food that moves you, but the time spent with you.

If the wine is not intoxicating, everyone is intoxicated, and the heart is filled with a little drunkenness.

...

I just went out during the Chinese New Year, and I happened to meet you. You are riding a blood-sweat horse, I stretched my neck and saw no one was sitting behind me, so I sarcastically asked, "Why are you staying alone today?"

"Nonsense," you shook your head chicly, "Where are you going?"

"Candy Buyer."

"How old are you, still eating this?" You said so, but then said, "Come up, I'll take you there."

I pretended to be reserved, but in the end I walked over.

I sat in the back and didn't dare to touch you, but you pulled my wristband around my waist, "Hold it tight, don't fall."

"I'm not a child anymore, how could I fall?"

"It's not a child who eats sugar."

The horseshoes are fast, but not very bumpy. The winter wind is chilly, but you have an unusual warmth on your body, and you won't feel cold.

You have a straight back, which is the figure you have cultivated since you were a child. When you see Hero Yang in the future, you will still have the handsome and handsome appearance in the script of the novel. If you are seventy or eighty, you will think about it.

Now you are in high spirits, wearing fresh clothes, and looking as good-looking as the most eye-catching celebrity. I am still ordinary, because my heart is full of depression, my face is haggard, and I am ugly as hell.

But you drew me a phoenix, which was bright and sweet. I held it up and couldn't bear to eat it, and was fascinated by the golden sugar figure.

You said: "Yaoyao, after a while, let's take you out to play."

I gave a "hmm" and carefully licked a mouthful. The sweet taste traveled from my tongue all the way to my stomach. But you said another sentence: "My mother is back, and I can't accompany you during the Chinese New Year."

It turns out that people's mood can be changed in an instant.

I lost my appetite and you stopped talking.

I took the sugar figurine back and stuck it by the window. It was blown by the wind for a whole winter, and finally melted away and was thrown away by Xiao Cui.

...

I don't like you, but I hate your mother even more.

I heard that she was a princess of the royal family back then, she was born beautiful, and she liked to compose poems, so there were a lot of people attending a poetry meeting. Your appearance is passed down from her.

As a child, she led you along and you both seemed to be glowing.

But I remember, I went to your house for the first time when I was eight years old. Your villa is exquisitely decorated, and the antique calligraphy and paintings are extraordinary. I sat there and accidentally spilled it on the ground when I went to pick up the tea.

Your mother smiled, and said softly, "It's just like that Yang Shuxian who can't get on the stage."

Yang Shuxian is my mother's name.

It took me a long time to understand what the word "countertop" meant, but I understood her eyes early on. She mentioned my mother in a disdainful and disgusting tone, as if she was talking about dregs in swill.

My mother did not come from a good family background, she achieved her current achievements on her own, she doesn't know how to drink tea, she doesn't know how to compose poems, and the things in the house are extremely tacky.

But your mother has no right to despise her.

I haven't called her since. Maybe it's because children's likes and dislikes are too clear, and your mother doesn't allow you to secretly take me out to play, but you are very clever and have thought of many ways, and you can always take me out together.

It's fine - do you blame me for using that word? I'm so glad that she loathes your father so much, so she ran here with you despite living a luxurious life.

Here, my father is half the emperor, he can handle everything. In addition, the relationship between her and my father is by no means ordinary, so she asked you to worship under my father, so we can grow up through bumps like this, and I can say with a straight face that we are childhood sweethearts when I go out.

One year, on New Year's Eve, my father didn't come back. It was said that he was going to compete with a certain master. My mother and I have long been used to it. Since my father became famous, many famous figures in the world have come to pay homage to the mountain and compete with my father.

My mother and I were the only ones at home, and my father was not there. My mother was very enthusiastic and asked the disciples to have dinner together and set off fireworks.

I have something on my mind, I sat on the roof alone, and the fireworks started here, and the fireworks cut half of the sky, so gorgeous and charming.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure flying off the roof. My mother was startled by me: "What's wrong?"

"Father is back."

"how……"

Before my mother finished speaking, I ran over, and my father was standing at the door, wearing a black cloak, with snowflakes floating in the sky, falling on him and then falling naturally.

I pulled my father into the door and asked, "Didn't you say you won't be back today?"

"Always be home on New Year's Eve."

My father looks young, and some people would believe him if he was twenty years old. He speaks softly, and he was also a handsome young man from all over the world.

I entered the house with him, and my mother lazily washed her hands and said, "I'm back."

She's just pretending, she's the happiest when my father comes back.

I am sensible, I found an excuse to go back to the room, and couldn't help but stuff a note to the crow you handed me: My father is back.

That crow was human, as fast as a streamer, and replied in less than a quarter of an hour: I met you outside just now.

My father also likes you, saying that you are young, but you have such a cultivation level, you have a lot of hills and valleys in your stomach, and your future achievements will definitely not be inferior to his. But I felt something was wrong, so I hesitated to write: Can I come out?

I stayed in the house for more than an hour, and only slipped out after my parents had entered the inner courtyard. The snow outside was falling heavily, the so-called goose feather heavy snow, falling on the ground in pieces.

The moonlight is also bright, you stand less than a hundred steps from the mountain gate, look at the moon, and let the moonlight envelop you.

In the future, I will recall in many dreams that your face is not clear, only the heavy snow and the cold moonlight.

Under the moonlight, your back is facing me, deserted.

I look at you, very close to you, but far away from you. I want to come forward and hug you, but the dream ends here.

Let me call you, and you come back to your senses. After straightening my neckline, warm my hands first.

"Come out without wearing more clothes. What should I do if I'm sick?"

"How did you meet my dad?"

Let go of your hand, "I was just about to go out to see you, and I just met you."

"Ningxiu!" I raised my voice, "You tell me the truth."

You fell silent and looked at me. Your eyes are light in color and affectionate.

But I know that prodigal sons like you have such eyes, and they are affectionate when looking at dogs, so they are easy to deceive the hearts of girls.

I avoided your sight, and after a while, I heard you say: "Master came to my yard and met with my mother." (Discussing the male lead's marriage)

In just a split second, I felt cold from head to toe. I don't know how long it took before I realized that you were calling my name. You looked at me with a worried look.

But I raised my hand and gave you a slap.

"You just look at them like that?! Ning Xiu, that's my father!"

I didn't know what kind of relationship they had at the time, but I just felt cold and hurtful. If people have a shadow, then my shadow is when I was eight years old, we just met.

My mother went to the Central Plains, in my yard, under the plum tree he planted by himself. I saw your mother and my father hugging each other.

Your mother is beautiful, even my mother is a famous beauty, how can she compare to her? And my father, who is personable, embraces each other like a pair of lovers.

So why are they not together? I don't know, it's the grievances of the previous generation.

It's just disgusting to me.

Now that they each have a family, why bother to place their homes so close together?

I am "extraordinarily gifted", and I have known how to pretend to be stupid since I was a child. But I didn't expect you to go too far than me.

This slap for you makes my palm numb.

Your handsome face just turned a little red, but you just said: "Yaoyao, I'm sorry."

"Master has his reasons. My mother came here because she was ill. Yaoyao... I dare not provoke her. I have no choice but to do what she wants to do."

"He can bully my mother when he is sick? He can snatch my father away, and my father rushes back on New Year's Eve, but he has to go to see her first!?"

I said that you are retreating steadily, are you unable to bear it? Otherwise, why would he pull my face and kiss me like this.

That's what kissing is all about.

The snowflakes in the sky are still falling, falling on the lips, cool and sweet. I was stupid there, I didn't know where to put my hands and feet. After a while, you let go of me, and I heard your voice a little hoarse: "Yaoyao..."

What are you going to say? Say you like me? You want to be with me? But you paused again, your teeth seemed to be rusted.

It took a long time before he slowly opened his mouth and said, "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry again.

You didn't say a few words all night. Upside down, full of apologies. What to explain?

Do I care about these?

I never need an apology, I just want my heart, which has never been broken from the beginning.

The snow was falling so hard that I was so cold that I had to back away. You want to chase, but stop. Like a child who has done something wrong, looking at me with sad eyes.

Don't look at me, you make me sad, I hate you, but I can't really hate you.

Look at you, you are good-looking and a master of martial arts.

It turns out that you have such a charm that everyone loves you and surrounds you.

I turned around and ran, you were behind me, but I didn't dare to move forward.

Snow stepped on it, rattling.

The sound of fireworks gradually decreased. The world is as quiet as a withered flower. I didn't dare to look back and rushed to the door.

I heard you say: "Yaoyao, don't cry, be careful of catching a cold."

If you say sorry again, I will definitely hate you fiercely.

Fortunately, you did not.

I wiped my face and realized that I was actually crying.

At that time, most of the disciples had already rested.

Only the room was still lit, and I heard my mother act coquettishly: "This time, I must rest for a while when I come back. Take Yaoyao and Ninger out for a meal when you have time. Yaoyao has practiced martial arts hard, and Ninger has contributed a lot."

"Why don't you talk about yourself? You are the biggest hero of our family."

My father's voice is still so gentle. But I feel like it has changed. Is it the same when he is with your mother, or will he be more affectionate?

But how do people do it? A heart is given to one person, but gets along with another person day and night, and even grows old.

Love doesn't have to last forever, is it just right for a dark fragrance to float?

It's all too scary and I can't do it.

And you?

I look at you and you look at me.

Seeing who was in the room again, he was about to say something.