It seems to be missing and envious. I miss the time when I was young and had no worries, and I envy such young and beautiful childhood sweethearts. In the end, I can only sigh lightly, the years are passing by and the world has changed.
What ancient style do you like? Is it a whip that rides a horse to the end of the world, a glass of wine with a sworn brother-in-law, or a folding fan waving loudly in front of the chest? A scene of swords and swords. A battle in the martial arts world, or a love affair between sons and daughters? Is it a surname or a name? Is it a lingering ancient song, a leisurely picture, or a broad-minded poem?
I like ancient style , but I can’t define the ancient style in my heart. My love for ancient style is not about wearing a Hanfu to take pictures or chanting the tunes of ancient songs all day long. My love is about yearning for the leisurely and simple life of the ancient world. Tranquility yet liveliness, leisurely yet busy.
Long years have turned my love into a feeling. This feeling is deep in the heart and rarely known.
I don’t really like talking about their topics with friends who claim to also like ancient style. Because most of the time, they seem to be comparing who likes ancient style more, and who likes ancient style first. Take my friend C as an example. C is a boy who prefers ancient style, but he only likes to see pictures full of ancient charm, listen to some songs with a slight ancient charm, or collect some ancient sentences.
He would occasionally send me some pictures and ask me to say what came to mind when I saw these pictures, and then express them in a few beautiful or sad words. The purpose is to discuss and discuss, but I am a person who does not want to compare and discuss with others the things I like. Just like I am often pulled into some groups called Gufeng for no reason, but I have never said a word in them. The reason is the same: I would rather like it silently.
My love for ancient customs has allowed me to build an ancient world in my heart that outsiders cannot peep into. I sit quietly in it, smell plums and cook wine, and let the outside world be in chaos. Others can't come in, but I don't want to go out.
This world can begin with a song and end with a game of chess. It can be complete because of the rise of a moon, and it can be left with regret because of the withering of a flower.
This world is very complicated, but also very simple.
Every inn seems to be a place full of Jianghu atmosphere. The waiter always smiles and lets the customers in while asking in a long tone: Sir, do you want to stay in the hotel?
The guest is sitting at the wooden table next to the window. He was sitting there, with the bamboo hat on his head, so he couldn't see his face clearly. He only said coldly: A jar of wine, two taels of beef.
With a fleeting glance, some of the guests around him had sharp eyes and murderous intent. Some were chatting and laughing freely and looked as usual. Every guest has his own secret and his own unusual story. It's just that a confidant is rare and hard to export.
After a few sips of wine, the storyteller who had been sitting in the teahouse opposite for a long time had started to draw out suspense for the first time in a long tone, saying, "If you want to know what happens next, please listen." Back to decomposition——" ended the conversation for most of the day.
The guest sighed, stretched out his hand to wrap up the few plates of uneaten broad beans placed in front of him, and left with curiosity.
Literati gathered in groups of two at the waterside pavilions to recite poems and write poems.
I don’t know how many times the drama of a talented man and a beautiful woman reluctantly saying goodbye has been staged under the willow tree beside the bridge.
I don’t know which girl in the attic happened to see it and remembered something sad, so she lowered her head and played with bare hands. The melodious and melodious sound of the guqin came from the half-closed window, just in time for the scene.
At this end of the street, a fierce woman gnashed her teeth and pulled her husband by the ear as she walked out of the fragrant flower house.
At the other end of the street, the young daughter-in-law, who was helping her husband choose a new style of clothes, was blushing. She answered in a soft voice and shook her hairpin gently, which made the years gentler.
There were gongs and drums in a certain street and there was a buzz of people. I don’t know which family’s young master was getting married.
The red candle swayed, and under the red hijab embroidered with mandarin ducks playing in the water, the woman with willow eyebrows and cherry lips smiled and lowered her eyes, and was amazed by the time.
On the street, there was a little girl who escaped from her boudoir and dressed up as a handsome young man. She held a sword and innocently asked passers-by where the rivers and lakes were. The Jianghu knights who happened to be passing by heard the words and laughed softly, shook their heads and drove away. .
There was the sound of reading aloud in the school, and sometimes there were children wailing. I wonder if they were slapped on the palm by the strict master because of lethargy or inability to endorse.
The flags of wine shops are waving, and the business of teahouses is booming. The shouts of various vendors in the streets and alleys are endless.
Childhood sweethearts were running through the alleys laughing and pulling kites, leaving only the old man selling candied haws on the street corner, holding a candied haws stick in one hand and tying his gray beard to the other, looking at them with a smile. It seems that I miss you, I seem to be envious.
I miss the time when I was young and envied such young and beautiful childhood sweethearts.
At the end, I can only sigh lightly, the years are passing by and the world has changed.
At night, the stars are scattered and the moonlight is bright.
The watchman's lantern was not bright, so he couldn't see the night walker in black who climbed over the wall not far away to steal two or three taels of gold and silver or a touch of rouge.
People who went out to have fun at night accidentally bumped into each other at the corner. In anger, they met each other while drinking wine under the moonlight, and they were young.
Some people in the martial arts fight for a world-famous secret book. Rookies from various martial arts schools dance with swords from early morning to late at night, just to stand out in the next martial arts competition.
The worldly master stood on the edge of a cliff and looked down at the common people on the earth. He was isolated from the world and his white clothes were flying.
There are many pictures and scenes, each one of which I like.
There are always people among my friends who have unrealistic time-travel dreams, and I can only smile while shaking my head. No dynasty in the world is perfect. If there is, it is the world built by itself.
I like the world in my heart. Everything seems to be right in front of me. Every person and every scene is alive, noisy and joyful. I have been fond of ancient music for many years. These years have been very happy, and life has also passed extremely slowly. It seems that I have always been the little girl who would be excited and sighing for a plot song for a long time.
It seems that I am still the same person who can hold a sorghum pole as a sword wielder, throw a long thin blanket over my shoulders as a cloak, and fold sweet potato canes into strings to hang on She wears it on her ears as earrings, hangs it on her neck as a necklace, and hangs it on her bun that she finally combs and pulls it up as a hairpin, a silly little girl.