The side hall was busy here, and Cheng Jiaoniang and Dan Niang over there had already walked out of the mountain gate with the children of the Chen family.
The author Chen Danniang had long since left behind this unfinished poem, and the author Cheng Jiaoniang had expressed her joy and no longer cared about it. The two people who were related to the excitement behind it were unaware of it.
At the same time, Qin Langjun also returned home with Liu Lang from hunting in the mountains.
The Qin Mansion is located in the middle of Beijing. Although the grandmother, Princess Fang Ning, has passed away, the Qin family still retains the princess mansion given by the emperor, with pavilions, pavilions, gardens and paths. It is exquisitely constructed and is one of the best houses in Beijing.
However, there are not many people living in the mansion, only Qin Langjun's family. The Qin family's ancestral home is in Sichuan. If Qin Langjun's father had not been employed in Jingzhong, the family would not have moved here.
When Qin Langjun came back, he came to greet his parents first as usual, but unfortunately, neither of them were there.
"You are so busy at the end of the year, have you eaten yet, Thirteenth Young Master?" the servant woman asked.
Qin Langjun pointed behind him, where a boy was holding two pheasants.
"I'll beat it and stew it for later." He smiled.
Although the Thirteenth Young Master is disabled, his personality is very easy-going.
"Thirteenth Young Master, be careful not to cut your hands," the maid said hurriedly.
Qin Langjun smiled, got on the soft sedan, and was carried to his yard by the servants.
In the yard, the servants and girls have been ordered to set up knives, scissors, stoves and pots.
After Qin Langjun simply washed up, he went to the yard and slaughtered and washed the pheasants with his own hands.
Two women came together and were stopped by the maid at the door.
"Six ladies, seven ladies, and thirteen young masters have shot pheasants and are preparing to cook them," the servant woman said in a low voice.
There was a bit of disgust on the faces of the two women.
"What's the matter with Thirteenth Lang? Why do you always like to cook your own food?" said one, "Dirty."
"Yes, you have to provide food, drink, and everything by yourself. It's not like there's no one to take care of you at home." Another one also said.
The two of them looked over, seemed to smell the smell of blood, and finally covered their mouths and noses.
"Forget it, let's come back another day." They said, turned around and walked away surrounded by the girls.
The servants sighed and looked back at the courtyard.
"...boil water...you need to scald it to remove hair..."
A clear male voice came faintly from inside.
"Yeah, why is this weird?" A person sighed in a low voice.
"After all..." the other whispered, raised his eyebrows, reached out and patted his leg, "...people like this are a bit weird..."
First he slapped her hand.
"What are you talking about? If it reaches Madam's ears, you don't want to live anymore." She glared and shouted in a low voice.
The maid hurriedly made a gesture of silence, shrinking her head, but there was a bit of a smile on her face.
The lights in the yard were lit, and Qin Langjun put a handful of mountain mushrooms into the casserole.
"Okay, serve it with me in half an hour." He said, putting down his bundled sleeves.
The girls responded and watched Qin Langjun reach out for the crutches.
The crutch was pushed aside because it was in the way. Qin Langjun couldn't reach it for a moment, so the girl hurriedly picked it up and handed it to him.
Qin Langjun's smiling face seemed to freeze for a moment, but soon returned to normal.
He reached out for his crutches, stood up with the girl's support, and slowly limped toward the room.
Four girls in the room were holding clean robes to change, and three more girls stepped forward and took off layers of Qin Langjun's clothes, leaving only the last layer of clothing, and helped him in to wash up.
After washing, the two girls knelt down and wiped their hair. Qin Langjun, who was leaning on the table with his eyes closed, seemed to be asleep.
"Thirteenth Young Master, the soup is ready." The maid's voice came from outside the door.
Qin Langjun sat up suddenly. The girl behind him grabbed his long hair without letting go, and kowtowed in fear.
"It's okay, step back." Qin Langjun smiled, waved his hands, and sat upright, "Come quickly, come quickly."
The hot mushroom stewed chicken is placed on several tables, and the aroma is overflowing.
"Delicious, delicious." Qin Langjun smiled and took a deep sip before picking up the spoon and chopsticks and eating slowly.
The two girls behind him couldn't help but look at each other.
Is this delicious? It may be delicious in ordinary people who don't see the smell of meat, but a bowl of chicken soup in people like Qin's family is nothing.
They then looked at the young man in front of them. He was dressed elegantly in white, with long hair reaching the floor. He was drinking with one hand and the other, and his white jade-like face was slightly blurred in the steam.
"I did it." Qin Langjun murmured, "I did it, I did it, I did it, I did it myself."
He lowered his head, put a mouthful of meat into his mouth, and chewed it slowly.
Return from a good trip and have a good night's sleep.
When Cheng Jiaoniang came back to Mr. Chen for routine acupuncture, she was often asked about her travel pleasure.
"It's okay." Cheng Jiaoniang said numbly.
"It seems that Qiting Temple is really beautiful." Old Mrs. Chen said, looking at Cheng Jiaoniang with a smile, "My lady is in much better spirits."
The maid subconsciously looked at Cheng Jiaoniang, she was still dumbfounded. In the eyes of the world, she was a bit mentally ill, and there was no change.
"My wife was a little depressed at first, but she seems to be better now." Old Mrs. Chen said.
Are you depressed? The maid couldn't help but look at Cheng Jiaoniang again. Can she tell that she is depressed?
Cheng Jiaoniang nodded slightly, did not speak, did not refute or deny, and twisted the golden needle.
Mrs. Zhou walked into the room and sat down with a bit of exhaustion.
"Mother." Liu Lang, who followed, asked, "Did she make excuses for missing again?"
Mrs. Zhou took the tea from the servant.
"It's up to you whether you see her or not," she said. "Anyway, I've done my best. It's her business whether to accept it or not."
Saturday Lang had a sullen face.
"It's my son who has wronged his mother." He said and leaned over to salute.
Mrs. Zhou hurriedly helped me.
"What are you talking about? It's none of your business. She's just a girl. What's more, the girl herself is shameless. She doesn't recognize people well. She blames us. That's why she has no rules." She sneered.
After walking out of his parents' yard, he went to the martial arts field to practice with sticks. The sweaty boy returned to the yard and it was time to have lunch.
Just when I picked up my rice bowl, I saw Qin Langjun coming in hurriedly with the help of the boy outside the door.
Because of his weak legs and feet, he always walked slowly and rarely walked so fast.
Saturday Lang sat up straight.
"On Saturday, you made me miss the good things." Qin Langjun said.
"What's the matter?" Zhou Lang breathed a sigh of relief and asked.
"A good poem came out of Jie Ting Temple yesterday," Qin Langjun said.
Zhou Lang curled his lips, it was just these idle people who were doing poetry all day long.
"What's a good poem?" he asked casually.
"The mountain temple is waiting for the plum blossoms to bloom." Qin Langjun said.
Zhou Lang picked up the soup bowl and waited for a moment before Qin Langjun read again.
"Then what?" he asked, taking a long sip.
"No more." Qin Langjun said.
Zhou Lang squirted out, and Qin Langjun opposite was splashed all over.
He didn't care about trivial matters at all, he still smiled and seemed to be immersed in the charm of good poetry.
"Is this a good poem?" Zhou Lang shouted with eyes wide open. While pushing away the girl who was hurriedly wiping it, he took the handkerchief and wiped it carelessly. "You came here to amuse me on purpose, right? Although I am a martial artist, but my Zhou family
It’s not like I can’t afford to hire a teacher! Come on, listen to a good poem I also made.”
he said, leaving the handkerchief aside and staring.
"A bowl of tea soup is good." He said one word at a time. "The mountain temple is waiting for the plum blossoms to bloom. A bowl of tea soup is good. Look, I'm still closed."
Qin Langjun laughed.
"Idiot." He laughed, reached out and carefully took a piece of paper from the boy beside him and unfolded it.
"The mountain temple is waiting for the plum blossoms to bloom." Zhou Lang read, "It's really a good poem."
While shouting for pen and ink, he wanted to continue what he had just done and add icing on the cake.
Qin Langjun smiled and sighed.
"Look at the words." He said, pushing a few cases over. (To be continued)
