wandering constantly

Bright, star thin. Wang Lin, accompanied by the voice of autumn, in the courtyard, seemed reluctant to leave, wandering constantly. Suzaku story of young stars, reveals a trace of sadness in the twists and turns, blending with the autumn, but is getting stronger. Green eyes should have been much more than shed tears, silently listening. Ping hear the half, they looked down, and blind to his face pick up the jug, drink a big mouth. Looking at the sky, no more. Tsing Yi stared looking at the front of the father and son, there is a strange road unknown inner emotions, subconscious, and she pulled the Ping's hand. Was detected immediately, Wang Ping's hand, a cold. The yard is very quiet, long, Ping husky voice, softly: up. The entire yard, Wang Lin, leaving only one person. Sat quietly, looking away stared. Cold autumn, when the night is more rich, blowing all around, and put some leaves blowing, began giving out very far. I do not know how long, Wang Lin, sighing. Looking down, picked up the jug on the mouth, but found that the wine has gone that night, Wang Ping, sleepless. He sat in the room, staring at the moon, the eyes reveal the pain of the color green should be sitting beside him, holding her hand, did not speak. When accompanied by silence. The next morning, Wang Ping, left, and green should always be with him. Start to finish, he did not then say a word with his father, he had one, even the left, also early in the morning, sat in silence in the cart, far disappeared in the Qi Watertown. He did not pay attention to points in the moment of departure, an eye, quietly looking at the coach's departure, in the eyes, showing the vicissitudes Ping out of the room, quiet courtyards, looking at the sky hundred cloud, murmured: matter, at this moment, no longer has any, let him see the same ideas raised. Tsing Yi nodded, eyes reveal tenderness. An ordinary border village, the Ping and Green should be living down, living ordinary life, their age, is no longer small, and his years at Wang Ping's eyes flashed from time to time. His life, ordinary nineteen years, eight rivers, twenty-five years of war, and decades of mortal supreme, although short, can the extent of its wonderful, but far from great people can experience. But, at the end, he returned to the starting point, back to being dull. Get up every morning, holding a wood carving in the yard. Mundane, reveals a warm, whenever the time, Green will sit on should his side, exposing the soft eyes, looking at his hand and knife, knife knife, carved hard to describe, the only way you can put all the memory, all fell on the knife, into the wood in the. The wood on the floor, revealing a trace of remembrance Ping eyes and whispered: , an air of leisurely proudly into the sky. Time to flash, but also ten years. Years of the silkworm, do not wash the traces of reincarnation, life and death, escape trajectory of Heaven. Years, for human life, with a trace of a long short, it feels a little contradictory, but it is indeed every human heart itself. For Wang Lin, the decades, indeed in short, a little long. His gray hair is very long, it seems not combed drinking, face, have become more old