Dead End

Copywriting In the spring of the fifteenth year of the Yuan and Ming Dynasties, the new number one scholar wrote to the north. Dressed in a brand-new red robe, he rode up Mount Midu to fulfill his wish. The spring breeze blew through the mountains and fields, dyeing the green forests, urging new flowers to bloom in the mountains, and also lifted the corners of the books on his sleeves, and the fragrance of ink mixed with the fresh air of grass and trees spread. The students in the same department spent time together, chatting and laughing all the way, talking about the prospects of the court, writing poems and articles, and horse hooves stepping on the bluestone steps, all showing the high spirits of a successful young man. Beishang Shu stands on the mountain steps. He has clear eyebrows and straight nose. He smiles with a bit of arrogance and wantonness. The ends of his eyes are slightly raised, showing his elegance. He is the image that has been described in the dreams of countless ladies in the capital - with outstanding talent and reputation, a smooth official career, and good looks and character. Even the breeze in the mountains seems to be partial to him, lingering around him, gently blowing his bright red robe, flying like flowing clouds. On this ordinary but destined to be extraordinary spring day, in the depths of Midu Mountain, under the bamboo huts and green pines, surrounded by mist, he met Nangui Lu, who lived in seclusion here. At first glance, the love does not know where it started, but it goes deeper and deeper. In the past, the number one scholar, who was full of knowledge and well-spoken, answered questions fluently in the Jinluan Palace and spoke freely at the literati's banquet. However, in front of his sweetheart, he became inarticulate and speechless. After several attempts to speak, there are thousands of words stuck in my throat. It is clear that there are thousands of caves in my chest, but I can only speak fragmentary and short sentences, and my words cannot express my meaning. The young man's heart is passionate and open, and he never knows how to hide it. The joy and admiration hang clearly on the corners of his eyebrows, eyes and lips, and even more heavily on the tip of his heart. Even the breathing when looking at the other person is gentle and slow, with a bit of cautious throbbing, for fear of disturbing the person in front of him. He finally understood the sentence in "The Book of Songs": "One day's absence is like three months' absence." In the past, I only thought it was a scholar's nonsense, and I could just laugh it off when I read it in my spare time. Now I am deeply immersed in lovesickness, and I know how it feels to my bones. He came up the mountain every day, regardless of the height of the mountain and the distance of the road, and the sideways glances of others, and frequently disturbed this pure place of Buddhism. In front of the Bodhisattva Hall, cigarette smoke curled up, and he just lowered his head and recited Amitabha silently, hoping that the gods would not blame him for this reckless and persistent affection. But even though his mind was surging, he didn't say a word of love when he wrote to the north. He just looked at Nangui Lu and smiled quietly. The eyes are filled with the spring light of the mountains, the flowing clouds and the breeze, the morning mist and the sunset, and all the scenery in the world, but none of them can compare to the cold demeanor of the person in front of me. Nanguilu has lived in seclusion in Midu Mountain for three years, and has long given up on worldly affairs. Accompanied by green lanterns, plain clothes and vegetarian food, I watch the rising mountain fog in the morning, listen to the bursts of pine waves in the evening, watch the clouds rolling in and out, listen quietly to the mountain streams and flowing water, and wholeheartedly escape from the world, regardless of the fate of the world. He is used to seeing crazy men and resentful women in the world trapped by love, crying and laughing, with obsessions that cannot be eliminated; he is also used to seeing Huaichun, a girl in the boudoir, whose thoughts are wandering, and her eyebrows are full of tenderness in her eyes. There are countless incense and prayers in front of the Buddha, and all living beings kneel down to worship. What they ask for and wish for, in the final analysis, is just the word "love" that is entangled endlessly. How could he not see the undisguised, sincere and hot heart in the eyes of the young man in front of him. Clean and passionate, straightforward and firm, it almost ignites the year-round silence in the mountains. The mountain wind passed through the forest, the bamboo shadows swayed gently, the sound of pine trees was soft, and it fell silent for a while. The distant bells of the ancient temple floated leisurely, accompanied by a few birdsong, making the valley even more serene. Nanguilu lowered his eyes and gently brushed away the fallen flowers on his clothes. His voice was as light as a cold spring, clear and distant: "You and I have different paths, but we are both men... I hope you can get out of here as soon as possible, get rid of your delusions, and don't let young Pianpian get in trouble." As the words fell, a gust of wind swept the fallen flowers gently past between the two of them. The red on Bei Shang's book jacket was intertwined with the light shadows of flowers on the ground, making it particularly dazzling. Bei Shangshu's eyes darkened, his fingertips clenched slightly, but he did not take a step back. His throat was slightly hoarse, but he still raised his eyes steadily and asked: "Why withdraw?" Nanguilu raised his eyes and looked at the flowing clouds outside the mountain. The shadows of the clouds slowly moved across the lapel of his plain clothes, and his tone was calm and calm: "It's just a gift from a willow tree, so we say goodbye. We all go our separate ways. From now on, the mountains and rivers will never meet again." The spring water by the stream was tinkling and the bamboo leaves were rustling, as if they were all waiting for an answer. The young man suddenly raised his eyes, his eyes were so bright that it seemed like sparks were burning in his eyes. Each word broke the silence of the mountain and made a loud sound: "So what if we have different paths? We don't have to follow each other all the way. We just want to support each other with our hearts and support each other, so that we can live up to this encounter." Later... A long time passed, and the two people, who had different aspirations but did not agree with each other, still took different paths. But Bei Shang Shu is no longer afraid of the ups and downs of the court. In the elegant and quiet Midu Mountain, there is Nan Gui Lu to welcome the first snow and cook new tea for him; Intention: Double harvest in love and career