After sending Feng Yi's wife away, the young men talked and laughed, and they were very excited. Although Meng Youtian had a smile on his face, his heart was heavy. From time to time, he turned his eyes to the north, and a trace of worry appeared in his slightly narrowed eyes. He could hear the sound of gunfire in the Pingjin war and the shouts of soldiers from both sides of the enemy and us.

What exactly does history rely on to be truly and completely preserved and passed down for a long time? What is the history you read?

It may be a verbal legend, which is naturally a reliable stele. However, if things go by, it will be difficult to completely retain the mood of the local and the people involved, right? It may also be that those real big-handed and painstaking efforts will be used to scatter the old news on the originally simple stone statues carved by others, put on a big hat, put on beautiful clothes, and climb high-soled boots, so that people will never know the statue again; or are they in the scene, and they will hear a small song, a small song played by a flute, rather than a symphony that mobilized the entire band and was adapted and complicated?

Meng Youtian is not very sure yet. In his opinion, the history he is about to witness may be composed of small songs one by one, perhaps without sensational writing, or perhaps without the passionate "high collection". History may be just an unknown ordinary person silently dedicating his energy to maintain the anti-Japanese fire of the entire Chinese nation.

Two people walked slowly on the road. First, a man with no age was shaved or washed for many days, like a chaotic monk, his face was dark and covered with dust, and there were several cracks. He was wearing a black cloth trousers and jacket, steamed by sweat, and there were pieces of white alkali. His shoes were flying up and tied to his feet with hemp rope. Behind him was a thin woman, wearing a blue cloth trousers and jacket, with dust on his head and cracks on his face, which was the same as a middle-aged man, carrying a black broken bag. This was a person who had walked a long way, and seeing the two of them looked very tired.

"The crops are growing so well." The man stopped, wiped the sweat from his head, and sighed, "Oh, when is this? How many more days can I eat?"

The harvesters were all facing the road. Someone was not comfortable when he heard this man's words and did not want to answer him. Shuanglian, who was quite old, looked at the man with his eyes slanted and found that the man was staring at his face with his eyebrows and staring at him. Shuanglian had a purple birthmark on his face. After hearing the storytelling of Water Margin, the young man nicknamed him "Purple-faced Beast".

"Yes, are you a Shuanglian brother?" The man opened his mouth tentatively.

Shuanglian was stunned and looked at it hard, but he looked familiar, but he couldn't remember who he was.

"I'm Qiangzi!" Qiangzi's expression was not laughing, and crying was not crying.

Qiangzi? Everyone turned their heads in shock. Except for the later Wei Qingshan, nine years of time could not erase their impression of their old friends.

The poor family is hard to leave! The intimacy of the old land in my hometown always urges Qiangzi to return to the village like a migratory bird. Thinking back to the beginning, Qiangzi and his mother were frightened and fled out of the village. Now that my mother is dead, only Qiangzi is left, but she still has two shoulders and a mouth. It’s really rich people travel all over the world, and there is no place to live in the world without money!

Everyone surrounded Qiangzi and spoke in a verbal manner. Qiangzi burst into tears when he looked at the old buddies. The pain of leaving his hometown and the extremely difficult torment of a foreign land all came to his heart, and he couldn't stop his words. It was a hard work from his escape from the village to Xingtai and Handan, and finally he went to Baoding to carry a big bag.

Later, my mother died of illness, and he saved a woman who was about to starve to death. The family was busy with food all day long. When the July 7 Incident arrived, the sound of artillery in Pingjin was worried, and the Japanese planes bombed Baoding again, and people fled in panic. Along the way, hunger and fullness were all permeated with blood and tears.

"I went out last year, and I miss you for a long time. The hard days outside are hard, and I don't have enough money left. I just want to come back." Qiangzi had a smile on his face, but his eyes were a little shiny. "I really can't stay there, let's go! I have to go back to my hometown, and I have to see the poor guys. It's really not easy this journey. It's all up to the legs and feet I have repaired. If I have changed someone else, I've been lying on the road."

"It's good to come back, it's good to come back." Shuanglian, who had the deepest relationship with Qiangzi, nodded and sighed, but couldn't say anything touching. He turned to look at the woman and asked, "Who is this?"

"This is—" Qiangzi said: "This is your younger brother and sister. After years of going out, this is the end."

Meng Youtian also remembered some past events. When he was a child, his playmates caught grasshoppers together, digging sand and blocking water after the rain, and making small fires from the earth kiln. But what he paid more attention to was what Qiangzi said about Baoding, bombing and escaping, and the Japanese devils were coming, and he frowned.

"Is it the village in charge of Li Dahuai?" Qiangzi asked in a deep voice.

"Not him, who else?" Shuanglian smiled bitterly and said, "You have to hold back when you come back. People with a wife dare not cause trouble."

Qiangzi snorted, looked at his thin wife, and took a breath.

"Brother Qiangzi, we won't cause trouble, but don't be afraid of him." Meng Youtian sneered: "The world is going to be in chaos, and Li Dahuai's slutty will be able to jump around in a few days. At that time, we will settle the old and new accounts together."

Meng Youtian was so confident, on the one hand, because he knew the future situation would develop, and on the other hand, because Hu Qing, a guy as bad as Li Dahuai, was no longer in Shili Village. Although he had the idea of ​​dealing with Hu Qing, before he could take action, Hu Qing resigned from the Li family's guardhouse at the invitation of a friend and went to the Sun family in Lianggang Village to serve as a cannon head.

"Look at you, I just suppressed the fire and you started to incite it again." Shuanglian glared at Meng Youtian with some dissatisfaction.

"Forget it, Arita said that." Wei Qingshan was the oldest and became a good friend. "Look, the master is here to deliver food. Well, is it A Xiu behind it?"

The harvest of sickles and wheat is a big deal. A good harvest is in sight. Mr. Song is not harsh. The main reason is that purple jujube plays a role. White flour buns, millet porridge, pickled cabbage lumps were sent to the field by the Zai Lao Yuan and Gu Yu. Ah Xiu was carrying a jar of mung bean water and came to comfort him.

"Brother Qiangzi, let's eat some first. Let's make some wine in the evening and chat while drinking." Meng Youtian took out the power to manage the affairs, called everyone to have a meal and rest, and then turned to explain to Axiu: "This is Sister Qiangzi, you take her home to eat. As soon as you say Qiangzi is back, this is Qiangzi's wife, and my mother knows what's going on. Oh, let's cook some food to deliver. There are too many people, not necessarily enough!"
Chapter completed!