The fifteenth brother yearns for the world, and yearns for it with all his heart and soul. I was a guest at my uncle's house for the first time. On the first night, the moon was white and the wind was cool. I stood at the window thinking about the weather tomorrow, planning to go to meet my colleagues, or just sit back and watch the red sleeves add fragrance and listen to the gentle rain. Before I could see the halo of the moon, something flew toward me. I was startled, and then I found out it was a wine cork. It doesn't matter. What's important is that my fifteenth cousin hung upside down on the roof with difficulty and waved to me.
It is said that he has never stepped out of his hometown and learned his inexplicable style from somewhere. The tiles in his house are good and densely packed, but they are a little shaky. I turned over and squatted next to him. I watched him correct his sitting posture and pour a can of wine into his pocket. His clothes and hair were all wet. He smiled vulgarly: "Good wine, good wine."
At that moment, I was speechless.
What he drinks into his mouth will never cost more than two cents.
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