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In an unknown Shan Ye in the northwest, a river several feet wide flows slowly along the mountain. The source of the river is a spring at the foot of a high mountain. At the foot of the mountain not far from Yongquan, dozens of huts stand on a small flat grass. In a few vegetable fields in front of the hut, you can vaguely see several women busy.
At sunset, a dozen villagers who went hunting in the mountains came back one after another. The older one looks over 50 years old, and the youngest one is 15 years old. In a small room on the last side, the smoke from the kitchen is hazy. In front of the stove, an old lady over fifty is busy cooking. This room seems abandoned.
With a bang, the door of the room opened and an old man in his fifties came into the room. Wearing patched clothes, with a long bow on his back and a bulging small cloth bag hanging around his waist, his face was full of joy but he couldn't hide the crisscross of Zou Wen.
"Wife, ha ha, you see, today is really lucky, such a big pheasant," the old man handed the bag hanging around his waist to the old woman, ha ha smiled and said, "You should make up more."
The old woman took the bag without joy, and she could still see some vague faces. She must have been a beauty when she was young. The unhurried way: "Reconciliation? No matter how you make it up, it's still the same. ...
Please confirm and adopt.