The next morning, Li Zhongqian was unsurprisingly drunk again.
But he still remembered to buy Li Yaoying the puff pastry from Granny Zhang's house.
Yaoying took the puff pastry and gave him a bowl of sobering cane juice: "Elder brother, I sent someone to bring Venerable Mondatipa to the palace. He has already arrived and is checking aniang's pulse."
Li Zhongzhi let out a vague acknowledging sound, tilted his head and drank all the cane juice in one gulp. Then he lied down, reclining on the felt mat and slept heavily.
Yaoying, angry and laughing, kneeled in front of him and slapped him a few times.
He didn't wake up.
"He's like this every time. Promising well, but will still drink heavily......"
Yaoying mumbled a few words in a low voice, wrung a hot towel and washed the face and wiped the hands of the drunken Li Zhongqian.
Li Zhongqian's gold hammer usually did not leave his hands. On his hands were rough calluses, both palms were criss-crossed full of scars.
After so many years, it was still shocking to look at.
Yaoying held Li Zhongqian's broad and thick palms, and her fingertips brushed over the hideous knife scar.
When these hands were teaching her how to write, they were still a pair of slim hands with long, thin, slender fingers.
The Li Zhongqian back then was calm and elegant, gentle and refined. He would follow the great scholars to read those thick volumes every day, able to write round, strong, and thin seal scripts, and draw landscapes with charred ink sticks.
The climate of Wei County was mild. In the spring, hundreds of flowers bloomed. In front of the garden, the plum blossoms were like snow, and the peach and apricot were delicate and beautiful.
When the breeze brushed past, the ground in front of the steps were full of fallen petals.
Li Zhongqian was writing and studying, and Yaoying was crawling around on the felt mat beside him.
At one point, she looked at the fluttering flowers extending as far as the eyes could see in front of the veranda. The next moment, she turned back to the writing desk and curiously watched Li Zhongqian wielding ink.
Li Zhongqian picked up Yaoying, letting her sit on his lap. He took her chubby fat little palm, teaching her to hold the brush.
He taught her to write her name, taught her how to draw the elegant and serene orchids.
When Yaoying was five years old, it was late spring. Li Zhongqian pointed to the rich falling flowers in front of the veranda and taught her to recite word by word: "The guests in the high pavilion have gone, and the flowers in the small garden are flying."
The day after teaching this poem "Fallen Flowers", Li Zhongqian went back to Jingnan to sweep the tombs.
Yaoying went to Li De's side.
It was autumn when the siblings saw each other again.
Carrying a pair of gold hammers weighing a hundred pounds, Li Zhongqian traveled a thousand miles alone through mountains of corpses and rivers of blood to find the dying Yaoying.
He was scarred and bruised, covered in blood, tightly holding onto his younger sister.
"Little seventh, don't be afraid, elder brother is here to pick you up."
YOU ARE READING
Thousand Miles of Bright Moonlight
Romance"Thousand Miles Bright Moonlight" will be adapted to chinese drama soon. Yaoying transmigrated into a novel. In the chaotic and troubled times, many nations were at war. Her father happened to be the most powerful of those vying for supremacy, her...
